The Start of Defeat
by queenoftherandomoneandonly
Summary: There are far too many fics in which Alex is in a vulnerable position and Gene rides to her rescue. This is not one of them. Gene starts off in a bad position, a position which gets far, far worse. Rates/reviews/constructive critisism always wecome.Enjoy
1. Chapter 1

He lay flat on his back, raindrops bouncing off the weathered northern skin. He was unable to get up from the cold concrete ground of the London backstreet, though not for lack of trying; he had writhed on the floor, limbs flailing in all directions, looking like a bizarre ladybird. Hunt was utterly humiliated and in a considerable amount of pain. Not the best of combinations.

The bins to his right began to smell, doing nothing to help his situation. He swore loudly, thumping the ground in sheer annoyance. The feeling of utter powerlessness was infuriating. What if he wasn't found? What if he _was _found? It was difficult to work out which was preferable: being left here to rot or having the entire team see him like this, watch the respect he had taken years to obtain being demolished in a heartbeat. Gene Hunt wasn't weak.

"Guv?" a voice carried on the wind.

"Oh shit." he muttered, as his skimpily dressed colleague appeared in the mouth of the ally.

"Gene?" High-heeled footsteps got ever louder as Alex hurried towards him.

" 'ello." He murmured, glumly

"What happened."

"Oh nothing. Just fancied a sunbathe." She raised a shaped eyebrow. "Look, Bolls," He lowered his voice now, just a hint of desperation in his words which Alex couldn't fail to notice. He had never spoken to her like this before. He lifted his head off the ground to look her full in the face, staring at her imploringly and continued, "Are there others looking for me?" She nodded. "I don't want them to see me like this. It's-" He broke off, unable to continue, letting his head fall back onto the concrete.

He hadn't expected her to understand. How could she understand? It wasn't the same for her. He couldn't be seen as helpless. His whole world hinged upon his being untouchable, indestructible. He had to be the strong one, he had to be there. If he had cracks, it would translate tenfold upon the team as a whole.

"Please Bolly," he said, looking up at the grey sky, still as immovable as ever, sprawled on the ground.

Her heels clicked away, and a moment later Alex's voice carried distantly from what sounded like several yards away,

_"Look, there's no point. He'll just be on the piss somewhere, you know him. Go and get a drink, he'll be in tomorrow. I'll look for another half an hour or so, but he won't be there. No need to worry." _

As the muttering subsided and cars pulled away, Gene once again heard Alex's familiar approach. She knelt beside him, allowing him to look into the increasingly familiar hazel eyes, currently full of concern. He grinned sheepishly.

"What happened."

"I was having a fag, see, and these blokes were pissing about with needles over there," He indicated an area behind to the bins. Alex glanced over, and indeed, there lay a used hypodermic needle poking out almost inconspicuously. "There was a scuffle and…erm…well, I…erm." Colour rushed to his cheeks. Alex averted her eyes. "I…well I did me back in." He said, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

It was difficult to admit. Here he was, vulnerable, sprawled in an alley like a junkie. To admit it was almost to admit defeat, or at least the start of defeat. He was old, past it. Soon he'd become a liability, a bloody invalid. He would never be as he once was. With a crash, the wave of his own mortality broke upon him. He was middle aged, overweight and now he was crippled, and what did he have to show for it? A faster car might help.

While the mid-life crisis reared its ugly head, Alex continued to stare at her DCI, dumbstruck. It was strange to see him like this, utterly hopeless and, (dare she say it?) a little bit scared. She steeled herself as she struggled to find the right words.

"It's…" She hesitated, "It's not really anything to be ashamed of," He gave a low noncommittal grunt. "No, really, it isn't. I mean…I did my back in once. When I was pregnant with Molly, a few days before I went into Labour. I was just the same-" She was cut off as Gene interrupted abruptly.

"But it's not the bloody same. For one thing, you'll have had a belly the size of kingdom come and secondly, I don't have the imminent prospect of pushing something the size of a watermelon out of my arse." He turned away again, sulking.

"Come on. Let's get you up."

After much awkward manoeuvring, swearing and grunts of pain, on Gene's part, They managed to negotiate him into a standing position if sorts, leaning heavily upon Alex.

"Where's your car?"

"Yer not driving my car!"

"Well who is going to drive your bloody car?"

He answered her with a grimace, but did not complain as she reached for his keys out of his trouser pocket as they made their ungainly way towards the Quattro, parked just around the corner. She lowered him into the passenger seat awkwardly as he winced in pain.

"Shit Bolls!"

"Sorry."

The drive to Alex's flat was short and uneventful, Gene sat over-rigidly in the passenger seat, and stifled moans of pain every time they rounded a corner.

"You should go to the doctor's you know Guv."

"I've only done me back in. I'm not a poof."

Alex unlocked the door as Gene attempted to hobble unaided behind her, but as a particularly nasty stab of pain shot through him, he fell against a wall and began to slide down pathetically, only to be caught by Alex and hauled into the flat.

"I'd offer you the bed, but I don't think it'll do you much good." She lowered him, instead, onto the carpeted floor. "I'm just nipping out. I'll be about quarter of an hour."

"What am I supposed to do till then? I've got a lovely view up your skirt at the moment." Alex stepped away hastily, crossing to the shelf and retrieving a copy of 'Jane Eyre,' dropping in the floor next to Gene.

"Read that."

"You got Jugs?" She shook her head, stifling laughter.

"See you in a bit."

Gene hastily put down the book as the handle turned and Alex re-entered the room.

"All right?"

"Well it could be better Bolls, Jane's just been locked in the room where her uncle died for a fight she didn't start."

"I've got curry."

"Have I ever told you that I love you?"

She smiled as she set the takeaway down on the table, opening the foil wrappings to pass her DCI a Bhaji.

"Thanks love."

Alex sat crossed legged beside him, talking and laughing whilst they ate.

"Erm, Guv, you've got Vindaloo on your face."

"Where?"

"Here." Alex pulled a tissue from a box to her right and proceeded to wipe the food from his face, grinning.

"Christ. I have lost it now. Next I'll be calling you Alma and I'll need help to have a shite."

"Don't be stupid."

"No, I think it's best if I just accept it. Soon you'll be helping me in the shower and wearing a nurses uniform."

"You're not old, Gene."

"I just hope I don't start pissing myself."

"Look. Gene, Guv, you've just done your back in, it's not as if this is the end."

"I'm not what I was Bolls, I'm old."

"No, you're not what you were Gene, you're better."

She leant in towards him, suddenly becoming aware of his blue-grey eyes scrutinizing her, his breathing quickened, reminding her, inexplicably of a rabbit caught in a trap, struggling, but becoming frozen with fear as the hunter approached. She hesitated for a moment, before kissing his cheek delicately, lingering there for the briefest of moments, before straightening up to look him full in the face. His expression was unreadable as she looked on, worried she had made a wrong move.

"I don't tend to kiss old men, Guv."

He studied her for a second before giving his measured reply.

"Oh I don't know. If I were a bird I might go for Bruce Forsyth." 


	2. Chapter 2

"Mornin' Drake."

"How are you feeling?"

"Rough as a bear's arse."

"Still hurting?"

"Not as bad as it was."

Alex rubbed her eyes, pulling her dressing gown more tightly around herself, contemplating the man still lying on her living room floor. He was cheery, but clearly still in considerable discomfort.

"I'll nip and get you some pain killers, Guv. Then we can try and get you up on the sofa so you can watch a bit of telly while I'm at work."

"I'm not staying off sick. I've just hurt me back a bit, I'm not bloody retarded."

"Don't use that word."

"What?"

"Look, you're not going in whether you like it or not, it's not like you can get up without my help, I don't know how you think you're going to be able to drive, for Christ's sake, let alone run the bloody station."

"I'll manage."

"You won't!"

"Right. Fine then." He glared at her. "There better be summat good on the box."

Alex flashed him a smile and nipped into the shower. Gene lay there, staring up at the ceiling he had come far too familiar with over the last few hours. An intense discomfort began to build in his abdomen. He turned his head to look as the lock on the bathroom door clicked ever hoping to get an eyeful, despite his current problem.

"Eh…Bolls?"

"Yeah?"

"I need a piss."

"Ah…"

"Will you just help me to the bathroom and then out again when I say I'm done. I don't need you to hold me todger or owt."

"Oh no," She said, with mock disappointment, "Just when I was beginning to get excited."

Gene grinned in spite of himself.

After several minutes awkward movement, between them, Alex and Gene managed to haul him into the bathroom, and position him over the toilet. Gene stuck out an arm to the wall to steady himself:

"Thanks love, I think I can take it from here."

"I'll just be outside the door, Guv"

A few moments later, the gruff voice carried to her again.

"Hunt to Drake, are you receiving? The eagle has landed. Repeat: The eagle has landed. Send backup!"

Making their ungainly way back into the living room, Alex lowered Gene onto the sofa as he grunted slightly, handing him the remote.

"Here's your painkillers," She threw some paracetomel onto his lap, "I'm off now."

"Tah. Don't tell 'em what happened will you?""They're going to wonder where you are Gene?"

"Tell 'em I'm on holiday."

"Where?"

"Devon."

"Why Devon?"

He shrugged. "Just sounds believable. If you tell 'em I've gone to the Bahamas, they'll be expecting a tan when I get back won't they?"

"Fair point. Have fun with daytime telly."

"Oh, I'm sure I will."

"_Oh no!" _Said Postman Pat. _"Ted Glen's letter had blown away! Now I'll never do my rounds on time!"_

Gene tutted. "Bloody hell, Pat. This is bordering on professional negligence. Every time you take on a delivery, there's some kind of fiasco. Greendale still hasn't forgotten the incident with Katie Pottage's birthday present. Long nosed twat."

Suddenly, the pain tore through Gene's lower back once more, and he struggled to find a more comfortable position, wincing as he the joints begin to lock. With much swearing and more ferocious stabs of pain, Gene managed to lower himself once more onto Alex's living room carpet, at the sheer relief of being flat out once more.

"Back on the floor Gene?" Came Alex's voice as she arrived home from work.

"No. I'm doing the pissing River dance." He muttered, bitterly.

"Is it hurting again?" He nodded. "Come here then, lets have a feel." She knelt before him, one knee between his legs, positioning herself in the most comfortable fashion for the examination. She placed her hands around his hips, her fingers stretching towards the small of his back.

He stiffened at her touch. Alex noticed the muscles tense, and looked up into his face. His breathing becoming ragged. For the second time over the last few hours, Gene Hunt reminded her of an animal caught in headlights, terrified of what was to come, but too transfixed to move. His eyes were wide, and oddly still, staring resolutely back into hers. It was at least thirty seconds before Alex spoke again, softer than before, sensing his trepidation.

"Guv, I just need you to arch your back for me, if you can, and I'll lower you back down." He nodded mutely and complied. Alex felt the bone and muscle flex beneath her fingers as their owner stifled sounds of pain. The entire history of this man was tied up in this series of bone, muscle and tendon. She felt the power they had once had, (and in the most part, still had.) She felt the beginnings of a man going to seed. The Manc Lion was worn now, the joints now longer swept past each other in a fluid motion, as cogs in a well oiled machine, but instead knocked together, occasionally grinding past one another, signalling the beginning of the end. At least in his eyes.

"No problems there, as far as I can tell."

"Thank you Doctor Bolls, but there does seem to be a tiny problem in that I can't bloody move."

"Give that a couple of days," She said, still straddling one of his legs, "You'll be back to your old self…shame really." She flashed him a cheeky grin at this, which was greeted however by a scowl. "What's up Guv?"

"It's just all this shit…it's brought a lot home. I'm definitely not what I was. Here I am, flat on my back in a bird's flat, having done nowt except watch Postman Pat and read Jane bloody Eyre which, coincidentally, is the biggest pile of shite I have ever laid eyes upon." He paused. "I just feel useless, Bolly . I feel like I should get a bigger car."

"Or a younger woman." grinned Alex

"You offerin'?"

"Might be."

"Sorry, love, you don't quite qualify; she'll have to be at least twenty five years younger really. I appreciate the thought though." It was his turn to grin now, enjoying the effect the words were having upon her.

"Cheeky bastard. Who wants a younger girl anyway? I'd have thought Gene Hunt might be after someone more…experienced." She finished, coyly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"How…experienced." pressed Gene, beginning to enjoy the banter.

"Oh, fairly experienced." She said, raising an eyebrow. She let his gaze linger upon hers, teasingly for a moment, before standing up, and returning to her usual, business-like self. "What do you fancy for your tea? Will beans on toast do?"

"Great…" Said Gene, distractedly, the cogs in his head beginning to turn, what could all of this mean? Could he consider himself to be on a promise? No, surely not, but it had to mean something. His mind began to work-over everything that had come to pass in the last five minutes, desperate to remember every detail, every movement, to file them away carefully and to remember them always.


	3. Chapter 3

Half a week later, Gene was back in the office, still rather stiff, but at least glad to be back at work. He had recovered slowly, one day at a time. He gradually regained his ability to sit up without aid, then to stand and finally to walk without pain. Though his back gave the odd twinge now and again, he now fully considered himself to be back in top working order.

True to her word, Alex had kept quiet about the real reason for Gene's absence, and had continued to maintain the Devon façade. As a result, Gene had been forced to make up a whole bank of complicated stories to satisfy his team's inquiries.

"Did you enjoy your holiday sir?" Shaz had said, greeting him pleasantly upon the day of his return

"Yeah. Thank you Granger." Gene had replied shortly, trying to convey with his tone of voice a wish that she did not peruse the matter. Unfortunately, Shaz did not take the hint.

"Devon was it? Were you with your family?"

"No."

"Were you on your own then, sir?"

"No."

"Ahh, with friends then? "

"Granger, will you stop giving me the third-bloody-degree about my holiday! Just sod off for a bit will you?"

Upon entering the office, Chris and Ray's stony expressions told Gene that they were more likely to start giving each other makeovers than pleasantly ask him about his 'holiday' at this particular moment in time.

"Oh. And here's 'imself." Muttered Ray.

"What's that Carling?" Snapped Gene.

"Sorry Guv, but where the hell 'ave you been?"

"Why don't you mind your own bloody business?" Gene said, dangerously, advancing upon Ray. Ray was clearly not to be put down that morning, for he stood up from his desk, and squared his shoulders.

"If it were any of us who just buggered off without sayin' anything, you'd bloody kill us!"

"Do I have to explain myself to you DI Carling?" spat Hunt.

"No offence like, Guv" piped up Chris, "But you did leave us high and dry. A bit."

"Piss off." Gene turned on his heel and stamped towards his office, slamming the door, causing the blinds to tremble with the force of it.

"Twat." muttered Ray.

"Leave him alone Ray." Alex said calmly from over the other side of the room. Ray turned on her:

"What? He just went AWOL and expects us to just accept it!"

Alex looked at Ray, knowing that in his position she would feel exactly the same way. She was the only one in the room who knew the real reason for Gene's absence, and didn't know why she and Gene had just expected him to be able to come back, no questions asked.

"I'll talk to him." She said, standing up from her desk and crossing to Gene's office. She knocked tentatively. Immediately, Gene's voice issued from within:

"Fuck off."

Rolling her eyes, Alex pushed the door and entered the office, letting the door close behind her. Gene sat, elbows on the desk and forehead resting on the heels of his hands.

"Alright Bolls?" He murmured.

"They were always going to be angry."

"Yeah, I know. It's just…hard…you know?" She murmured her ascent just as Ray popped his head round the door.

"Blag. Post office. Chisley Street, if you're not planning on sodding of to Cornwall or 'owt."

The Quattro roared into life as Gene revelled in the aggressive driving techniques he had so missed during his time at Alex's flat. His soul felt free as he nearly knocked over an old lady, he felt ten years younger as he neglected his brakes and used a crowd of metal dustbins as a rudimentary stopping device. Gene was back behind the wheel of the Quattro and finally felt he was back where he belonged. God, he loved that car. Beautiful. It had just the right shape, went like sugar off a shovel and stuck to the road like shit to a blanket. And that paintwork…it just said 'the bloke who drives this car is a god. He's got unfaultable taste and a cock of such a size it's a wonder he fits it beneath the dashboard.'

Reluctantly, Gene slammed the car door shut at the post office, and walked towards the building with Ray, Chris and Alex. All four took out their guns and began to load them.

"Right." said Gene, "Post Office blag. Easy. We can be in, out and back in time for tea. Come on lads."

The usual 'Yes Guv' chorused from all around, although the mutinous look which Ray cast him did not escape Gene's attention. He carried on, however as if it had, and led the officers into the building.

It was the usual type of scene: terrified customers, terrified staff and three men running about with stockings on their heads. Luckily, they had caught the robbers off guard, guns hanging limply by their sides. It was clear that these three men were far than professional. They were able to make the arrests quickly and without incident. Gene cuffed one of the men, ripping the improvised mask from his head, and looked upon the face of his most recent detainee.

With sickening recognition, Gene placed where he had seen that face before. That night, one of the junkies he had tried to arrest, resulting in his back injury. The man leered at him:

"Ahh, it's you isn't it? How's your back Grandad? Don't over-exert yourself, will you? Bet you had to have a few days off. Didn't know cripples could be coppers these days." Gene silenced him with a punch to the stomach and, avoiding the eyes of his colleagues, dragged the man outside. Handing the man over to a uniformed police officer, Gene got into the Quattro, pressed the accelerator and drove away at high speed.

Just his bloody luck. Now his entire team knew. They'd never look at him the same way again. How could he still be the Man Lion if he was doing his back in every five minutes? Gene had a fleeting image of himself limping after a criminal, waving a walking stick and shouting. The thought made him feel, if possible, even more emasculated.

Perhaps he just had to accept that he was, in fact, getting on, getting older.

The Quattro screeched to a halt down a deserted road as Gene had a sudden thought. Here he was, leaving his team again, and this time it was voluntary. What would they think of him then? Running off like a nancy every time a blagger gave him lip?

No. He had to go back. Face the music, whatever that music may be.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry Lads, short chapter this time. Will try to do a bit more next time to make up for it. Hey, at least something happens in this Chapter. Review or be hunted down by my private army of specailly trained ninja goblins. **

_Speeding back towards Chisley Street on a deserted back road, Gene did not see the van as it pulled out suddenly in front of him. _

"Where the bloody hell is he? Don't tell me he's pissed off again!" The team had expected to find Gene slouched moodily in his office upon their return to Fenchurch East CID, but instead the chair was empty, and had been since they had got back an hour and a half ago. Ray had paced beneath the giant chessboard since arriving, and had grown more and more agitated as time went on, again and again asking Alex, Chris and Shaz for answers they could not give.

"Ray, I still don't know." replied Shaz, patiently.

"He'll be back." said Alex, who had not spoken since the would-be post office blagger had announced Gene's ailment to the world, "He's just embarrassed Ray, give him time."

"He's had bloody time!" spat Ray, moustache twitching, "He's not a poof anyway. Like he'd give a shit what we think."

"He does," Alex murmured, "A damn site more than you'd think."

"Oh here comes the psycho crap," Ray sneered, "Come on then, tell me you know that because he ties his shoelaces slightly to the left, which means he's insecure. Don't speak shite."

"Actually Ray," Said Alex, firing up at once, "I know because he told me!"

"What?"

"That night. When we were all looking for him. I found him down an alley with his back done in. He asked me to make sure you lot didn't see him like that. That's why I told you to leave it. He didn't want you to see him weak." Alex finished, the words petering out as she spoke. She felt humiliated on Gene's behalf. She could almost understand now why it was so important to him that he should appear faultless. When he was down, the team went down with him. There was silence for a moment, before Chris spoke.

"…You knew Ma'am?"

"Yes Chris."

"And you lied?"

"Yes Chris. He didn't want you to know. He thinks his reputation's all he's got. If that gets tarnished, he thinks he's finished."

* * *

Gene slammed on the brakes violently, and with her usual instant responsiveness, the Quattro screeched to a standstill mere inches away from the van. For a second or two, Gene sat in shock. Panting and gripping the steering wheel tightly, causing his knuckles to whiten underneath the leather driving gloves. Stepping out of the car, Gene strode over towards the driver's door shaking with anger.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Driving like a-" But exactly what he was driving like, the van driver would never find out as a heavy blunt object made contact with the back of Gene's skull, cutting his tirade short as he plummeted forwards and landed face down on the tarmac.

When he re-awoke, Gene's pain clouded mind vaguely registered surprise that his arms and legs were incapacitated, having been bound tightly, and that his groan came out rather muffled through the wad of material stuffed into his mouth. Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. First his back, Now he'd been bloody kidnapped and was trussed up like a turkey. What with one thing or another, it was turning out to be rather a shit couple of weeks for Gene. He exhaled in pain and frustration as his back gave an uncomfortable twinge.

He knew there was no point in struggling since his two best assets-his fists- were currently unavailable. Gene allowed his head to flop back onto the ground and his limbs to relax, opting instead to attempt to think himself out of the situation. The material, whatever it was, was even preventing him making a weak try and Alex's psychology stuff…it wasn't as if he could even try and talk his way out.

…Unless.

Using his tongue and facial muscles, Gene began to try and force the gag out of his mouth. His tongue pushed at the material ineffectively to begin with, his mouth working furiously to try and shift it. So intent was he on his work, that he barely noticed his forgetting to breathe, being reminded forcibly as his body protested and he gulped in air, the material catching into his throat, suddenly choking him. The force of the coughs, however uncomfortable, began to work in Gene's favour though, as the cloth began to edge forwards. Pushing desperately with his tongue, Gene managed to dislodge the cloth. Inch by inch, the material-apparently a tea-towel-began to edge it's way out of Gene's aching mouth, his tongue toiling frantically against the screwed up wad. Finally managing to eject the tea towel from his aching mouth, Gene allowed himself simply to breathe, as if to recover from the little ordeal.

'_Although,'_ said the wry little voice in his mind, '_There's a lot worse left to come yet Hunt. You've got your mouth, yeah, but what're you gonna do? Bite his face off?"_

It was at that moment that Gene heard a door creak open and slow footsteps make their way across the bare floorboards towards him. The footsteps stopped. Gene rolled, gingerly onto his back, staring up onto the face of his kidnapper, far from pleasant recognition coursing through him.

"Oh bloody hell. Not you again."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Ooh, aren't I a regularly updating bunny! Little bit darker this chapter. I'm not good at dark. Tell me what you think. As always, my army of ninja goblins are ready to attack those that read but don't review. So...yeah...review. Enjoy. **

"Ma'am," said Chris, the classic look of bewilderment etched upon his face, "this is getting a bit…you know, stupid now."

"I know Chris." Alex checked her watch, "I'm actually a bit worried. This isn't like him."

"Isn't like him?" said Ray, incredulously, "This is the second time in a few weeks he's done a disappearing act. Just because we all found out he did his back in. I didn't think he was that much of a poof to run off over something as stupid as that."

"That's the thing," Alex murmured, "He wouldn't, not really. You should have seen him at mine, he was itching to get back to the office. I don't think he'd leave all this over something so trivial…not by choice anyway."

"Might he have done his back in again Ma'am?" piped up Shaz.

"Possibly. He still had a bit of pain."

"My arse he's done his back in again. He's just buggered off. He's in a mood so he's buggered off. That's it."

Alex turned to the fuming Ray, studying him for a moment before answering . "Even if that were true, Ray, he wouldn't just go! He'd at least tell m-" but she was silenced by the look Ray gave her

"Tell you. Tell you? God, just like a bird! He says you've got a nice arse, flirts a bit and you automatically think you've got something _special! _Nobody's bloody special to him, he goes off and does whatever the hell he likes. He doesn't give a shit about anybody but 'imself. You mean nothing to him!" Ray stopped the tirade abruptly, almost surprised at himself. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of Alex's rapid breathing, as she fought to remain in control of the anger bubbling in her chest. She wanted to launch herself at Ray, scratch at his eyes, repeatedly punch him…

She stood suddenly, reminding herself to retain her dignity. She spoke next to the room at large, her voice measured, although laced with danger, as if daring anyone to challenge her.

"I am going out to look for DCI Hunt. You don't have to come with me, but if any of you try to stop me, I swear to God I will not be responsible for my actions."

With that, Alex took her coat from the back of her chair and headed for the door, knowing that getting angry was pointless. She needed that energy to channel into something constructive. Finding Gene.

* * *

"Revenge is sweet Genie boy."

"Revenge is sweet? Is that the best you can come up with? Bloody hell you're losing your touch." Gene's captor laughed, a cold, humourless laugh.

"I'm losing my touch? Who was the one flat on his back in the alley? Had to wait for that bird to come and pick you up, didn't you? She your nurse Hunt? She wipe your arse? Pretty one, isn't she? What I wouldn't give for a bit of that."

Gene's stomach lurched, though he managed to keep his face impassive.

"Shut up."

"Touchy subject eh?" Sneered the man. Gene began to panic, stuttering slightly with the effort of trying to seem calm

"No…no it's not it's-"

"Aww… how lovely. Has Hunt got himself a girlfriend?" The man looked Gene up and down critically, "Mind you though, Gene, dunno how you managed to bag a bit of skirt like that…maybe she's into the older man. I reckon she could do with someone a little…fresher." he finished in a hiss.

"You stay away from her…you stay away or I swear to God I'll…"

"You'll what Hunt? You'll what? Head butt me to death? Come on Gene, you don't have a leg to stand on. Quite literally." and with that, he left, leaving Gene alone and unsettled in the darkened room.

* * *

Alex pounded the streets alone, checking all of Gene's usual haunts. Luigis, his home and local pubs. After checking the Miller's Arm, Alex sighed with frustration, letting her legs carry randomly through the network of streets. Looking up, she found herself outside of Chisley Street Post Office, and decided to try and re-trace Gene's steps earlier that day.

After leaving the post office, Gene would have got into the Quattro and driven off, (she was sure of that much) but in which direction? She imagined that he wouldn't really have been thinking about it, but would have simply driven off in any direction. But what after that? Surely his auto-pilot would have taken over, making him automatically drive familiar routes. But where? Well, he spent most of his time in the office, so wouldn't it make sense that he'd start to drive there? It was worth a try, anyway. Alex began to walk down Chisley Street in the most logical road route to CID. Upon reaching the main road, Alex took a right and then a left down Abbot Road. It was here that she noticed tyre marks on the ground, as if somebody had braked suddenly. Who was known for their erratic driving? Perhaps here he'd realised that he couldn't run away from it…yes, that must be it! But where from here? Back the way he'd come? No. It made sense to carry on in the same direction and take the back roads back to Chisley Street. There was less traffic that way and he wouldn't have had to bother to turn round. Alex hurried on, twisting and turning in the maze of alleys and back streets as fast as her heels would allow. Finally, she came to an abrupt halt.

The Quattro was sitting in the middle of the road. The driver's door was open. Alex broke into a run, dreading what she would find inside. She was momentarily relieved when there was nothing, but felt her heart drop into her stomach like a lead weight when she noticed the keys still in the ignition. Gene would never leave his car like that. Moving to the front of the car, Alex looked out onto the street before it, looking for any kind of clue to what might have caused Gene's leaving the Quattro so vulnerable. She felt bile rise into her throat as she noticed a small dark pool of blood on the road. Transfixed, Alex put her hand in her pocket and withdrew her police radio.

"You'd better get them down here…I've found the Quattro."

* * *

Gene lay on the cold floor. He had been struggling against his bonds for two hours now, and had succeeded in releasing his legs, but was now twisting his wrists forcibly to try and loosen the ties upon them. He was having little success. The thick rope had begun to rub upon his skin, making it blister and sting. Gene gritted his teeth against the pain. Finally, and with a surge of triumph, Gene managed to free one of his hands, and then using it to untie the rope from around the other. Discarding the rope, Gene rubbed his injured wrists, studying his environment in order to form the best plan of escape.

The door seemed the best option, positioning himself behind it, Gene waited in the hope of taking his kidnapper by surprise as he entered the room. He did not have to wait long. About two minutes later, Gene heard footsteps and saw the chink of light under the door fade slightly as a figure stood in front of it.

The door opened, Gene launched himself at the man, flooring him in a single punch and leaping for the exit. He ran into the next room, desperately looking round for a window, or another door, anything to get him out of here. Before he could bolt towards any other door however, two pairs of strong hands grabbed him by the arms and held him fast, dragging him back to the room, ignoring his shouts of protest. It seemed the man had accomplices.

Gene was thrown back onto the floor, where he heard the captor's command issue from somewhere above him.

"Hold him down." the accomplices obliged, pinning Gene to the floor as he struggled uselessly. With a bloodied nose, the man looked down at Gene, anger coursing from his every fibre. "It seems we want to escape, do we Gene? Well we can't have that. Excuse me a moment." The captor left the room, returning moments later with what appeared to be a hammer. He knelt down at Gene's feet.

"What the hell you gonna do with that?"

"We can't have you running away again, can we Genie boy. Now brace yourself, becuase this is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me."

He raised the hammer.

* * *

"Would he leave the Quattro like that Ray? Seriously?"

"No. S'pose not." he conceded. He looked at Alex, "Well what does it mean?"

"It means he didn't leave of his own accord. That blood over there," she pointed "we need samples. If that's his, it means someone's incapacitated him slightly. There's not enough there for a fatal wound."

"So it's kidnap?"

"Possibly."

There was silence as Ray and Alex continued to stare at the blood.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes Ray?"

"I'm…eh, sorry about what I said before. I was just-" She motioned for him to be quiet.

"Forget about it. We just need to concentrate on finding the Guv. God knows what might happen to him."

* * *

Gene braced himself, determined not to show them his fear. As the man brought the hammer down, he closed his eyes. Telling himself that he could deal with it, not to give them what they wanted. He had to stay strong. Despite what he might of thought however, nothing could have prepared Gene for what came next.

He screamed. The pain was immense. The captor rained blows upon his kneecaps, shattering them excruciatingly.

"STOP! FUCK! STOP! God…STOP!" He cried almost incoherently. The man ignored his cries, repeatedly slamming the hammer into his knees, his face alight with malice as he heard bone crack.

Gene's pain clouded mind registered only one fact.. He had to stop it hurting. The hammer moved down to his ankles. Gene's renewed bellows filled the air as the man resumed bludgeoning him. Gene retched, vomiting again and again onto the floor beside him. The pain coursed through his trembling body, driving any other thoughts from his brain. At that moment, he would have done anything, absolutely anything to stop it.

"STOP! STOP! AGHH!"

"Beg me."

"STOP! STOP!"

"I said: beg me."

"No…You BASTARD!"

"BEG ME!"

The last ounce of Gene's resolve broke.

"PLEASE! PLEASE! STOP! PLEASE GOD STOP! PLEASE! DO-ANYTHING!"

Giving him a few final hard blows, the man stopped. Standing up, he kicked Gene's face and laughed.

"See where a few manners can get you?" and with that, the three men left the room, leaving Gene alone again. With only intense, mind addling pain for company.

He had begged. Feeling sickened with himself, Gene lay flat on his back in a pool of his own vomit. He could feel it now, on his face, the back of his head, seeping into his hair. He could feel it, but he didn't care.

He had begged.

He was worthless.

**A/N: Do check out 'Protege,' a joint fic between me and SephyRose611. There's a link to our joint account on my account page. We'd both be VERY happy if you'd R&R that. My ninja goblins will also hunt you down if you don't review that one too. You have been warned. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well here's Chapter 6. Just like to give a special mention to Jazzola who's been great to talk to over the last couple of days, and who's also writing a Gene-is-kidnapped story which is more than likely to put this to shame. Hope you enjoy. Reviews must be given, or my ninja goblins will wait until you're asleep and poo on your face. I've told them not to, but it's a hobby of theirs. **

Gene lay flat on his back. The pain had long since receded into a dull throb. His legs were at odd angles and were left exactly as The Captor and his cronies had left them; any sort of movement caused enough pain to make him cry out and gasp for air. He had let the tears fall unashamedly down his face. They were not tears of sadness. They were anguish. Pain.

He had begged.

Looking up at the ceiling, Gene's abused and battered mind floated back to the last ceiling he had studied in detail. He remembered the textured wallpaper, its swirls and waves. It's ebbs and it's flows. He remembered Alex's legs appearing by his side, and the view up her skirt. Despite what he had said, to her however, he had averted his eyes from the sight. Chivalry and decency had compelled him not to look at her while she was unaware. He had far too much respect for her for that.

What he wouldn't give to be back there now. Under her care. That fleeting moment. That kiss on the cheek.

"_I don't tend to kiss old men, Guv." _

Her voice reverberated around his head. There, it lit something like a candle, glowing faintly before bursting into a strong, all-consuming, beautiful light. Her voice filled every corner of his mind, blossoming into a feeling of utter warmth. His chest swelled and roared. For a moment. Gene wasn't lying, emaciated in a darkened room, Gene wasn't even lying in Alex's living room, Gene was lying in bed with her beside him. Her head was propped up on her elbow, her hair falling carelessly in front of one hazel eye. He could see every mark, every feature of her skin, free of makeup. A smile crept onto her lips fleetingly before she melted away, leaving Gene alone once again on the hard floorboards.

Despite the image leaving, the feeling stayed. He was strengthened, empowered, if only slightly. As the shame began to recede, he began to feel a little more the Gene Hunt he had always been. For a while he felt he could have done anything, despite the injured legs. He was going to get the hell out of here, nick the bastards and be home in time for tea.

It all came crashing down, however as the door swung open.

* * *

Alex had left work at three in the morning, finally giving in to her need to sleep. She would be no help to Gene in the state she was. Her mind needed to be in top condition if she was going to find him before it was too late…if it wasn't already too late.

She pushed this dark thought to the back of her mind as her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. She knew that she would be unlikely to get any sleep, owing to the pounding of her brain, thoughts and theories whizzing around it. But also (and more importantly) she could not shake the unsettling thoughts about what Gene was doing now, how was he feeling? What had they done to him?

Upon entering the flat, Alex's exhausted eyes were drawn instantly to the spot on the living room floor. Gene had been there only a day or so ago. The last time she had come home from work, he had proudly grinned up at her from that sofa, two cups of teas on the coffee table. At the time, she had thought little of the tea, but now she thought of the effort that had gone into the making of them. First the painful walk to the kitchen, then the struggle to remain standing as the kettle boiled and then the perilous journey back to the sofa. She imagined his face screwed up in concentration, wincing occasionally as discomfort shot up his spine. She pictured him leaning on the counter for support, all the while being careful not to spill the tea. It must have taken him at least fifteen minutes. She felt a stab of sympathy for him as she realised why it had been lukewarm.

She shuffled over to the patch of carpet upon which he had been. Without thinking about it, she lay down upon it herself. With one cheek resting where his chest had been, she brought her knees up to her stomach crossing her arms over her torso. Perhaps her imagination supplied it, but Alex could have sworn she caught a hint of his scent there. Closing her eyes, she breathed it in the smell. Stale tobacco, alcohol and bog standard aftershave had never smelled so inviting, nor had it ever tugged on her heartstrings in the way it did then. She let her mind wander into its own territories. She imagined that her head was, indeed upon his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her. She imagined the rise and fall of his chest as he held her.

In sleep, Alex would be able to forget. She would have a few joyous hours of unknowing, perhaps of pleasant dreams in which he was there. Before the blissful oblivion overtook her, Alex turned her head towards where his skin might have been and whispered a single sentence into the carpet, her lips brushing the fibres.

"I will find you."

* * *

"The jean genie lives on his back."

"Fuck off." Muttered Gene, groggily. "The jean genie loves chimney stacks," The Captor continued to sing, mockingly, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "He's outrageous, he screams and he bawls." Gene sighed as the man finished, "Jean genie let yourself go."

"You quite finished?" grunted Gene. "That was great and all, but I wouldn't give up your day job of kidnapping coppers and braking their legs."

"Always _so _funny Gene. It's a wonder you're not on the stage. With that talent you'd have gone far." sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

Not to be beaten, Gene shot back: "Yeah, and with a face like that, you'd have 'ad an amazing career on the radio. Move over Terry Wogan, hey?"

"You just don't know when to stop, do you Gene?" trilled The Captor, his light-hearted tone only making his words more sinister.

"Look, can we just get to the point?" cut in Gene, trying to appear unphased, "What am I doing here? If you're going to kill me will you just hurry up and do it? I'm bored shitless."

"Oh no Gene!" smiled The Captor, "Why would I kill you now when this is so much fun? Honestly, I thought you actually had a bit of nouse! I don't want to kill you straight away. I want to make you squirm. Like a worm on a fishhook. I'm going to be the man who broke Gene Hunt. How does that sound?"

"Not brilliant," Gene admitted, "but you're already a bit fucked."

"How so Genie?"

"You will never break me." Gene spoke plainly, coolly, the new determination Alex had inspired giving him confidence enough to make that claim. The Captor only laughed.

"And there's the fun. Right there. Oh, you're going to be a challenge, don't get me wrong, but Gene, hear me: I will break you eventually. Could take a week, maybe a month, who knows? But believe me Hunt, I will break the Manc Lion. I will leave you a snivelling wreck before I end it. Make it easy on yourself Genie boy; don't bother resisting."

Gene was momentarily silenced as The Captor once again moved towards Gene's feet and crouched down. Removing Gene's right boot roughly with gloved hands, he caused Gene to suck in his breath suddenly, trying to stifle the cry of pain, not wanting to give The Captor the satisfaction. Not again anyway.

"What you doing with that, going to stuff it up my arse or something?" muttered Gene.

"Now there's an idea," grinned The Captor, dropping the boot to the floor, and pulling a pen-knife from the pocket of his jeans. He placed a hand between Gene's knees, and positioned the blade dangerously close to Gene's groin. Fearing the worst, Gene instinctively tried to move away from the knife, momentarily forgetting the condition of his legs and being forcibly reminded as they burned at his efforts.

"Stay still." muttered The Captor. Having no choice otherwise, Gene obeyed, trembling as the man drew the blade across Gene's inner thigh, slicing through material and skin. He placed the boot beneath the wound as blood began to flow out. When in was suitably covered, the captor removed it and made towards the door. He looked back as Gene spoke.

"What's that for?"

"Oh, this?" asked The Captor, "Just a little present for your lovely DI. A memento, as it were."

"Oh, I imagine she'll be thrilled. It's what every girl wants for Christmas isn't it? The bloodied boot of her missing boss."

"Don't get cocky Gene. It might upset me, you know what happens when you upset me." Gene did, so decided not to press the matter further as The Captor left the room, leaving Gene with a searing cut, the stinging of which however, was far eclipsed by that of his maimed legs.

* * *

The boot arrived first thing the next morning. A white Shaz had beckoned Alex towards her desk, gesturing wordlessly towards the instantly recognisable blood spattered snakeskin. She held out a note written in block capitals, which appeared to have come with the package. Alex took it gingerly and read.

'STOP LOOKING. HE'S DEAD. TRUST ME ON THIS ONE.'

Ray craned over Alex's shoulder, studied the note before speaking into the stunned silence of CID.

"So this is from the killer?"

"More than likely." Chris said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"The killer?" cut in Alex. "Who says he's dead?"

"That does." said Ray, nodding towards the boot and the note.

"Honestly, Ray! Think about it! If he was dead they wouldn't have sent us his boot! It would be a limb, a finger…maybe even his head! No, he's alive. This all means he's alive." Alex turned away, "Chris? Get these down to forensics. Get them dusted, get that blood tested, see if it's a match to the Guv's. Everyone else, I know this'll be a long one, but I want you to make a list of all the Guv's known enemies. Everyone he's put away. Ray," she said, turning back to him, "with me. We're going back to the crime-scene. See if there's anything we might have missed."

"Woah." said Ray, indignantly, holding up a hand, "Who put you in charge?"

"I did." Alex barked at him, reminding herself forcibly of Gene.

"Well, in case you're forgetting _DI _Drake, we're equal rank. You don't order me about."

"That's funny Ray. I think I just did," She snapped back, "I'm running this investigation. Deal with it."

"Well I think I should lead this bloody investigation if you must know. I've known the Guv for longer. You can't just march in here and expect to be my boss."

"I'm sorry," Said Alex, incredulously, "but who, not two minutes ago gave the Guv up for dead? Who's been slagging him off every chance they got?" Her face was thunder as she stared into Ray's defiant eyes. She could tell he was not going to back down. "Fine!" she said, shrilly, "Let's do this democratically. All in favour of me leading this investigation?" All hands shot up.

"Sorry mate." muttered Chris.

"All in favour of DI Dickhead?" continued Alex. When no hands rose, she turned back to Ray. "Well it looks like that's settled. You're under me. So if you don't mind. MOVE!" Ray jumped slightly at her shout, and scuttled towards the door. Alex lingered for a moment.

"Look. I don't want any more arguments. If we want to find him, we need to be a team. Pull together. Imagine what he'd say if he could see us now. Let's just get him found, ok?"

"Yes Ma'am." came the reply


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Helloo! There shouldn't be any more updates for a couple of days. Am going to Wales tomorrow. However, the excessively long train journey should supply me with plenty of time to work on the next chapter. Thanks for all your reviews so far. Enjoy. XD**

The scene of Gene's kidnap had yielded little. There was no indication of anything at all suspicious. In fact, the only thing eluding to Gene's kidnap was the dark stain upon the tarmac. Alex and Ray's argument was soon forgotten as their eyes were drawn instantly towards it. They returned to CID feeling mutually frustrated and anxious.

"How's the list Shaz?" asked Alex upon their return.

"Bloody long."

"Chris-forensics?"

"Boot's his, blood's his. No prints."

"Right." Alex turned to face the team, Ray standing by her side. "We're clearly dealing with someone who knows what they're doing. Someone with a grudge. Now Gene's ruffled a few feathers in his time, so to be honest, that makes it very bloody difficult to work out who's got him. The most obvious motive is revenge, so hopefully we can narrow down that list. I'd like you to cross reference that list with people who've recently got out of prison or who have family members with previous form for violence or a criminal record. There's also the possibility that someone actually in prison is ordering this from the inside, but for now we're going to have to bank on it not being. Now I've got a hunch, and since that Gene always acted on his hunches, I think I'd best honour his way of doing things. I feel like this is someone who's known him a while. Maybe he put them away back in Manchester, put their nose out of joint. Maybe they've just got out of prison and wanted revenge. I'd also imagine they'd gain a lot of kudos in the criminal community for having killed Gene Hunt, which means time is probably of the essence. So let's get moving!"

"Yes Ma'am." They chorused, before they flurried into action.

* * *

For the first time in thirty years, Gene Hunt prayed. Since being a child, his mother had taken him to church every Sunday. He had attended Sunday school, he had said his prayers every night. As he had grown, Gene had simply stopped praying, but that didn't mean he had lost faith. Despite anything he might have said, he still believed. There had always been an enduring feeling within him that there was a higher power. It was this higher power to which Gene now turned in his time of desperation. He did not speak, but thought his words, his eyes closed, having just awoken from a fitful and disturbed sleep. He spoke to God as if to a friend. He had always thought that if he were God, he would prefer it if people cut the reverential crap and just spoke to him plainly.

'Alright God? How's stuff?…How's your Jesus getting on? Look… I know we haven't spoken in a while, 'an I don't like to come to you just when I need something. But where I am now God, I've got nowhere else to turn. My predicament's a bit shit really, so if you've got any of that divine intervention free, I could really do with a bit down here. Nothing big…just help Bolly find me.

Oh, about her. Nice job there. She's a bloody masterpiece. Those legs, God, they're great! I don't know where you get your inspiration from…just look after her, hey? If I have to go, then do me a favour and make sure she's alright. She's a good woman. An' if it ever comes down to a choice between me and her living, then choose 'er. I'm clapped out now, me. She can offer the world a lot more than I can. I don't know what I'd do if she died, God. So if you're going to kill me now, the least you can bloody do is make sure she's safe.

Get her a nice bloke. Someone to look after her. Give her everything she wants. Some bloke who'll treat her like a princess. Find someone who'll give her everything I can't.

Thanks God. Hey, I've just realised, I might be meeting you in person pretty soon. Stick the kettle on will yeh?'

It was a while before Gene noticed the breeze on his face. Opening his eyes and sitting up as much as his fragmented legs would allow, Gene noticed a tiny window on the far side of the room. It was slightly ajar. Hope glimmered within as Gene began to shuffle gingerly towards it, still on his back. Using the movement of his shoulder blades and upper abdomen, Gene managed to push himself along, caterpillar-like, towards the window.

Upon reaching it, Gene realised there was no way he was going to be able to haul himself up from the position in which he currently was. He had no other choice: he had to roll over. Dreading the pain that would follow, Gene lifted his right leg what little he could, moving it inch by inch over to his left. Beads of sweat ran down his face as he fought the urge to cry out. Concentrating through the pain, Gene shifted ever so slightly, allowing himself to flop excruciatingly onto his front, his triumph far eclipsing the stabs of agony.

Using all his upper body strength, Gene reached up to the window sill, and pulled himself into a semi standing position, ensuring that his weight was held by his arms rather than his legs. Craning his neck towards the window, Gene took in his surroundings. Four storeys up, (definitely no chance of getting out that way) he surveyed the street below. He knew this place. Montgomery Road. Christ! He must be in that tower block by the chippy!

Gene grinned as the seed of a plan began to sprout in his mind. It would take preparation, he would have to bide his time. The probability of it working was about a thousand to one…still a chance then.

Gene was jolted back to earth by the familiar Six 'o clock news theme carrying from the next room. With another jolt- but this time of realisation- Gene registered the need to get back on the floor again before The Captor entered to find him at the window. Getting up had been cinch…getting down would be an entirely different matter.

Slowly, Gene manoeuvred himself around, so that his back was to the window sill. He began to slide down the wall, hoping to end up in a sitting position beneath the sill. Controlling his decent was far from easy, and Gene was far from surprised, yet no more prepared when he lost his balance, slipped and his foot caught on the floor.

Gene could not conceal his scream this time, as a bone fragment was forced upwards and out of Gene's calf, piercing flesh and sticking out sickeningly. Gene barely had time to recover from the fresh waves of agony, when The Captor shouted through from the next room:

"You might wanna listen to this Hunt." In spite of himself, Gene found himself straining to hear as the newsreader's voice carried through to him, slightly muffled.

'_-DCI Hunt disappeared from a London backstreet yesterday afternoon, almost immediately after apprehending the culprits of the failed Chisley Street Post office robbery. He is believed to have been kidnapped, and there are doubts about whether or not he is still alive. The Metropolitan Police have appealed for the public's help in finding DCI Hunt earlier today. The team at Fenchurch East's CID gathered for the appeal this morning, all of whom have worked very closely with him over a number of years.' _

An all too familiar voice issued through to Gene. Alex spoke thickly, as if she had a severe head cold. Was that emotion lacing her voice? Surely not. Gene listened closely.

"_Gene Hunt means a lot of things to a lot of different people. To his team he is the very essence of solidarity and loyalty-"_

Her voice was drowned out for a moment as The Captor shouted through:

"Bloody hell Hunt! She's even tastier close up. There aren't many things I wouldn't do to her…" Gene ignored the lurch in his stomach as he tried to hear Alex's voice through The Captor's lecherous comments.

"…_So if you see anything suspicious around the London area, then please do not hesitate to report it. Even the tiniest thing could lead to us finding our DCI safe and well…and if you're listening, whoever's got him…please. Have a heart. Let him come back to m-" _She paused before continuing, _"to us…Gene. If you're watching…We'll find you. Don't give up. Just-" _

The television was turned off suddenly. The Captor's voice spoke again

"Touching…Shame I haven't got a heart isn't it Genie Boy? You hungry?" Gene did not answer. "Well I'm not feeding you, you lardy bastard."

But Gene was not listening. The loss of Alex's voice had pierced him like a knife wound. It was only after a few minutes that Gene began to register the meaning of her words.

She was looking for him. She'd done the appeal. She was leading the investigation.

He wasn't going to give up, not until his last breath. She said she was going to find him and he was going to let her.

Now to put that plan into action.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Well I'm back from the land of sheep. Here's Chapter 8. I'm bloody knackered. Six hour train journey. You'd better enjoy it or I might actually cry. Review and...ZzzzzzZzzzzzz**

Millie Stafford happened to be the first person The Captor saw that morning. He watched her from that forth storey window as she ambled home, pushing a shopping-laden dolly trolley before her. Millie was a short woman of sixty nine, walked with a pronounced stood but was (in her own words) 'in damn fine nick for her age thank-you-very-much.' Her eyes were sunken and clouded, though alight still with the spark of wit, intelligence, and the fierce pride of a blitz survivor.

To the naked eye, she was an unnoticeable, irrelevant, insignificant member of the public; to The Captor she was perfect. Just what he was looking for. In fact, she was even more perfect than The Captor realised: Though rings glistened on her finger, there was no husband waiting at home. There was no children, no siblings, no cousins. Nobody. Nobody to notice, nobody to report her missing.

No one to identify her body

In the next room, Gene sat beneath the window. Apathy threatened to engulf more and more with every passing minute. Not that he could judge time in minutes any more. Only the angle in which the sun sloped through that tiny window onto the floor of his prison betrayed any indication to the passage of time. He planned to wait till nightfall, until movement ceased in the next room. A while ago, Gene had smelled cooking…

This was hunger unlike any he had experienced before. This was no slight rumble, no dryness of the mouth. No. This was vice like around his stomach. Water had been allowed, but was scarce. The Captor or one of The Accomplices had entered once or twice a day, thrusting a cup of lukewarm tap water in Gene's face. He had always drunk it more or less straight away. The thirst did not allow him time to savour it. There could only have been a few fluid ounces per serving. Not enough to satisfy, but just enough to keep him alive and needing more.

Gene lifted his chin from his chest as he heard muffled voices through the perpendicular wall. Floorboards creaked in the hallway outside as three sets of footsteps made their way to the front door. The voices stopped abruptly as the door clicked shut. They appeared to have gone out. Well now was as good a time as any…he'd better get going. It wasn't much of a plan, granted, but at least it was something…just to lead Alex in the right direction.

Closing his eyes, Gene mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do, determined this time to cause himself minimal further damage. Reaching upwards, twisting his torso around as he did so, Gene once more gripped the window sill. His calf throbbed, though Gene ignored it, channelling all his energy into pulling himself up. Once half way up, sweat intermingling with tears of pain, Gene gripped the window itself, managing to haul himself up further, taking more and more weight off his abused legs. Almost sitting on the window sill, Gene dug into his breast pocket, pulling out his warrant card. He looked at it for a moment. It was a symbol of all he was, the good and the bad. This little leather wallet had seen him through both his proudest moments and his most shameful. It had always been there. Now he hoped it could save his arse too.

Without as second's more contemplation, Gene reached out of the window and let the warrant card go. A part of him seemed to go with it. That tiny part was liberated, and he couldn't decide whether to revel in its freedom, or whether to despair that the rest of him was still cooped up in here. Gene felt odd as he lowered himself back down again, coming to rest against the wall. All he could do now was hope. It was a slim hope. It was not much of a plan…but at least that was something to hold on to. He'd done all he could now…Alex had to do the rest.

* * *

They had nothing. Every line of inquiry had come to a dead end. They were still following up Shaz's list, but even the narrowed down version was horrendously long. Alex had taken to sitting in Gene's office for hours on end, just to be near him. The desk and the char remained untouched, as a shrine to him. Alex tended to sit, knees up to her chin, by the filing cabinet, just staring up at the desk where the opposing figure had once sat. Theories and ideas whizzed around her brain as she desperately tried to make one fit. None did. All she could be sure of was that it was revenge. It had to be. Also, she knew that Gene was still alive. If he was dead, she knew they would have been contacted. Kidnappers like this one always liked to gloat…

She didn't know which was worse: him being dead, or him being stuck somewhere…alone. On one particular afternoon, Alex felt worse than ever. She should be out there looking for him, but something held her back. She dreaded what she would find if she did.

Alex was not a religious person, yet in times of sheer desperation, she couldn't help but look to the skies and hope. Today was just such an occasion. Closing her eyes, and tilting her head back, Alex prayed.

'You know as well as I do that the world needs him. Please. Just help me. You know that we need him. This place is a mess…Please God. Make him be Ok, I don't ask for much. Gene's a lot of things…and of course he's not perfect…but he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't.

He means so much to everyone. All of them out there. He's their rock, their friend…they rely on him. They don't know up from down when he's gone. They need him…I need him. Just let him be Ok…'

_

* * *

_

Millie hobbled down the alleyway between Magnolia Drive and Celdervale Street. Her hearing had always been poor, ever since she had been a little girl. She could hear day to day conversation and the radio, but certain things went unnoticed. Certain things like three men approaching stealthily from behind.

_It was for that exact reason that three men approaching stealthily from behind were able to over power her, knock her out cold, bundle her limp body into the back of a van and drive off into the fading light._

Gene looked on in concern. He had managed to drag himself towards the elderly woman that had been flung into the room, yet had had no success in trying to rouse her. He spoke softly, trying not to encourage The Captor or his cronies back into the room.

"Y'alright love?" Nothing. "Come on sweetheart." He shook her shoulder slightly, drawing his hand away as the eyelids flickered open. The woman looked blearily into his eyes for a moment, meekness appearing to radiate from her every pore. She looked the very picture of a frail pensioner sitting bolt upright with surprising agility for a woman of that age. She looked around, fuming before speaking.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON!"

"Keep it down love!" whispered Gene, urgently, not wanting to give attract attention.

"WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE ARE THEY? I'LL GIVE 'EM BLOODY WHAT-FOR! I'LL BITE HIS PISSING LEGS OFF!"

"SHUT UP!" Gene barked, effectively silencing the woman, who still looked at him angrily. He continued, though with a return to the soft voice of before, remembering that, above all, she was a member of the public, and, as a DCI, it was his duty to protect her, "Look love, don't turn on me, I reckon we're in the same boat."

"Hang-on," she said, squinting at Gene's face. "Are you that bloke off the telly?"

"I have been told I have a look of Rodger Moore." He grunted.

"Don't be sarcastic," she shot back, "You're that police man from the news yesterday."

"That's me. Gene." He nodded by way of introduction.

"Millie," said Millie, nodding in return, "What've they done to your legs?""Hammer." He said, with a single jerk of the head. He would have expected Millie to be at least taken aback my this news had he not spent enough time in her company to know that she was made of stronger stuff. She merely smiled ruefully.

"Nice." she said.

"Isn't it just?" A silence fell between them before Millie spoke again.

"So that woman on the telly…you're her boss?"

"In rank only." said Gene, a smile playing about his lips.

"What was her name?""Alex."

"Alex," she repeated. "she looks like a nice girl."

"Hmm." agreed Gene.

"So how long have you been here?""Dunno." he said, shortly. "You sort of…you know…lose track." He petered out, avoiding Millie's eyes. She considered him.

"Oh well…at least now we can lose track together eh, Gene?"

"Together…yeah."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Quite a sad chapter this actually. I've been wanting to do a little bit about Gene's distant past for a while now, so I thought I'd shove it in here. It sort of works, doesn't it? :D Ok then, Ninja Goblins ready to go if you don't review...so do. Enjoy!**

"So this is revenge?" Millie looked at Gene, her deep blue eyes boring into his. She was not your average pensioner, Gene had come to learn that not long after meeting her. Despite her uneven voice and outward fragility, Millie's mind was as sharp as ever. Gene was slightly taken aback by her, he knew she would accept no nonsense from him, (not that he was planning to give her any, considering their current situation,) and her piercing gaze and strong character forcibly reminded him of someone. He answered her.

"Yeah."

"Then why bring me into it?" Gene had been dreading this question. He avoided her eyes, buying himself time by looking down at his shoes. He ran a hand along his jaw line. He hadn't showered or shaven in days. He had only been allowed to go to the toilet once a day, sometimes less. What was more, due to his many escapades up to the window sill, his shirt had clung to him, wet from perspiration. A few hours on and the stench stale, dry sweat had begun to reek from him. He wasn't obsessive about personal hygiene, far from it. He believed that a real man could not be without his signature musk…but this was something else. Millie clicked her fingers impatiently, snapping him out of his reverie and drawing his attention back to her question. He hesitated for a moment longer before giving his answer.

"I don't know, love." Millie let out an exasperated sigh.

"Bloody hell, you're a detective aren't you? If you're their bloody boss and that's the extent of your investigative mind then we're going to be stuck here forever!" Gene did not answer. The truth was, he had a hunch about why Millie was here, and it wasn't pleasant. He chose instead to continue the contemplation of his shoes.

Millie surveyed him from over the rims of her tortoiseshell spectacles. It was evident from her look that she could tell that Gene knew more than he was letting on. Apparently, she decided to let it pass, as her next question was unrelated. "How are your legs, sweetheart?"

"Well they've been better." they shared a brief smile, "Anyway, enough about me. It looks like we're here for the foreseeable, so we'd better get to know each other…you're married I see?" He nodded to the rings on her finger.

"Was married." she corrected him. "Arthur… We were only eighteen." she smiled reminiscently, "I was proud as anything, hanging off his arm. My Mum was there, smiling her head off. I've never been happier than I was that day, you know Gene. You know what it's like…when you're just happy with someone. When he was there, every day was a little bit brighter and when I was in his arms…I just knew. I always felt safe. Every moment was like… well it was like heaven. I know it sounds silly…" she trailed off.

"It doesn't…" he croaked, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. He had made an unconscious decision to be himself with Millie. There was no need to put up his usual barriers. The truth was, he did know, to a certain extent, to what she was referring. He had felt like it with his ex wife for a while, but it had soon waned. He had been alone for so long. The odd one-night stand had lost their charm as he had got older, each one leaving him feeling a little more disgusted with himself. Millie uttered a single sentence, her voice wavering. And for that moment, each wrinkle told its own story. The crows feet showed trials, the frown lines eclipsed the laughter lines…Gene could guess what had happened next before he was told.

"Then the War."

"…He was killed in battle?" She looked up at him, her blue orbs misty, a shadow of the defiant eyes he had stared into not five minutes ago. Her answer surprised him slightly.

"No. He came home…well someone who looked like Arthur came home…but it weren't him. I suppose my Arthur did die in battle. He just wasn't the same, not after that. He told me once, on one of the rare occasions he let me in, that he couldn't stop thinking about all them men. The ones he killed. He said how odd it was. To shoot a man just like him. He said that, had he met any of them in a pub, he'd have probably had a drink with them. He said that he'd killed people just because the flag they were marching under was a different colour to his. He said he couldn't stand to see the lights leave their eyes." Millie appeared to gather herself, clearing her throat and continuing clinically, "I found him not long after that, in the sitting room. He had a dressing-gown chord around his neck."

There was silence as Millie finished her story. She stared into space as Gene struggled with himself.

"He was a hero, love," There was no answer, Gene stretched out an arm towards her. "Come here."

Not entirely succeeding in hiding her tears, Millie closed the gap between them and allowed Gene to place his arm around her bony shoulders.

* * *

The list had come up with seven names yet to be checked. Alex and the team had thrown themselves into it, using every trick, every tool every ounce of knowledge they collectively possessed, but so far to no avail.

Alex sat in the chair in which she had usually sat in Gene's office, looking across at him. The number of times they had stayed up all night, pouring over case notes in this very spot. Each time, they had found themselves being awoken by a member of the team entering the office for the next morning's work. She remembered how his hair had always flopped over his face as he lay slumped on the desk. He had always been the last to fall asleep and the last to awake the next day. She remembered how she had always awoken under his coat. She had never appreciated all these things.

Some might call it chauvinistic or misogynous behaviour…perhaps it was a little bit patronising. Although she knew he didn't see it in that way. She was always so ready to berate him over the slightest of things. She had been so ready, and so busy, that she hadn't realised that most of his cock-ups were done with good intentions. As much as he would have protested at her saying it: Gene Hunt was a thoughtful man.

* * *

_His bare feet slapped on the floor as he ran downstairs. He couldn't sleep with her crying and screaming like that. Stuart always managed to sleep through it. Gene could not. His too-short striped pyjamas came down to just above his ankles as he placed a foot through the door of the sitting room. He skulked in the threshold as his mother screamed._

"_Please Robert!"_

"_You b-loody do this-s you know. You jus-st go out of your bastard way to piss me off." Gene flinched as his father launched himself at his mother. He heard the all-too familiar sound of knuckles on skull seconds before his Mother hit the floor, sobbing pathetically, shielding her head from the figure looming above her._

"_Mummy?"_

"_Gene! Go to bed! Go now darling, just go!" she screamed, raising her head slightly. _

"_But Mummy-?"_

"_And you! Yer li-ttle bas-stard." slurred his Father, swaying where he stood, "Why don't you jusst piss off!" He advanced upon the terrified boy, who's head came scarcely up to his waist, though quaking, the sandy-haired little boy stood his ground, trying to look past the man obscuring his vision to where his mother lay bleeding on the floor._

"_Mummy?"_

"_OI! Why don't you bloody look at me when I talk to you? Look. At. Me!"_

"_Mummy-!" but the little boy was cut off by a heavy blow to the side of his head, sending him sprawling onto his back. He heard his mother's screaming heighten and saw her desperately trying to pull the man, now raining punches onto Gene's face, away. _

"_ROBERT! NO! NO! LET HIM GO! GENE! GET OFF HIM!" but Gene just lay limp, allowing his limbs to go numb, letting the pain roll over him. There would be plenty of time for crying later. If he cried then it'd just make him more annoyed, he'd hit him for longer. Now he just needed to lie still and wait for it to end. _

_After what seemed like hours of pain and his Mother's fruitless efforts, Robert Hunt drew back, watching his eight year old son bleed, his silver-blue eyes staring listlessly upwards. _

"_You'll do as your bloody told!" He shouted, stepping over the unmoving figure of his child. The front door slammed. His mother enveloped him in her arms, holding the battered little boy to her chest and rocking him slightly, singing a lullaby indistinguishable through her sobs. Finally, Gene Hunt cried into his mother, his tears soaking her blouse, his belated screams of pain and anguish muffled by her breast. _

_Blood trickled from his hairline and down the side of his face, flowing onto his mother's arm. She continued to hold him, her tears intermingling with that of her eldest son, running her slender fingers through his hair. _

Gene awoke with a start, drawing a sharp breath as the memory came back to him, clear as crystal. Upon remembering where he was, Gene would have given anything to be eight again, to be back in his mother's arms, even if it meant his father was there. He hadn't noticed the tear drip down his face, but wiped it away surreptitiously.

"You alright Gene?" said Millie, apparently having noticed Gene's sudden reawakening. He looked over at her, considering what to say. He settled on the easiest option.

"Fine. Just a dream."

There are some things you just can't share.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry about dely in update/shortness of chapter. Hopefully, Ch 11 will be longer. Hope you enjoy the 896 words that are here though! Ninja Goblins always watching.**

"Alex!"

Ray ran into Gene's ghost-town office, where he found Alex sitting on the floor leant up against a filing cabinet. She stared into space. "Alex!" He repeated, with more urgency. She jumped, apparently having been snapped out of day dream, and turned to face him. Her heart dropped into her stomach as Ray uttered four earth-shattering words. "Alex, there's a body."

"Oh my God."

"On the banks of the Thames." Alex sprang up, grabbing her jacket from the floor beside her, and ran full pelt out of the offices. She turned this way and that, through doors, downstairs, up and down corridors, her heart thumping in time with every click of her heels. a mantra forming in her head as she ran.

'_Please not him. Please not him…'_

_Three hours earlier: _

"Well then, now you two have had a little time to become acquainted, I think it's time we got down to business." The Captor rung his hands together, the accomplices standing either side of him, their expressions nothing short of gleeful. Gene shrank back into the wall, Millie on the other hand looked The Captor straight in the face.

"Get on with it then. Haven't got all day."

"Ooh, she's a feisty one, isn't she Gene? Almost a shame what has to happen next."

"Oh get stuffed." spat Millie, "I don't know how small you are down there, but it's got to be pretty pitiful if your only hobby is kidnapping pensioners."

"As I say," said The Captor, a smile spreading from ear to ear, still not looking at Mille and addressing Gene, "It'll be a shame."

In one fluid movement, The Captor hooked one arm around Millie's throat and pulled her into a standing position. He held her firm to his chest with her back to him, so that she was facing Gene. She struggled and protested, trying to hurl yet another insult in The Captor's direction, but his arm increased the constriction upon her windpipe with every move she made. She stood still, it was all she could do to get air. Before Gene could react, The Captor drew a pistol from his trouser pocket. He held it to Millie's head, whose terrified eyes widened.

"Now Gene, I'll make a deal with you, walk across this room and I don't pull the trigger. Ok?"

Millie's eyes sought Gene's as she shook her head, urging him with those eyes that had made such an impression onto him, not to agree. Gene felt like he knew Millie. He saw her as a kindred spirit, and to him, her eyes said _'You have so much more to give than I do.' _He shook his head at her. Everyone had something to give, especially Millie, the spirited, strong and determined woman that she was. Her eyes also betrayed the same fear that he had seen a thousand times before. He saw the fear of an elderly woman who had the barrel of a gun against her head, an innocent woman who knew she could die any minute. Gene saw a member of the public. She was his priority.

_"Ok." He whispered. _

_"Sorry, Gene, didn't catch that one. Speak up." mocked The Captor._

_"Ok." said Gene, slightly louder_

_"I said, speak up!" The Captor snarled, pressing the gun harder into Millie's temple._

_"I SAID OK!" roared Gene. _

_"Good." smirked The Captor, ignoring Millie as she began to whimper, "Help him up lads." Upon his command, the two accomplices marched towards Gene, grabbing him under the armpits and pulling him upwards. As soon as Gene was in a standing position, they let go, letting all his body weight fall upon his legs. _

_Inevitably, Gene's useless knees crumpled, making him cry out. Landing with a smack onto the floor, Gene writhed, half with pain, half with the desperation surging in his chest. He had to get back up. Had to save her. Even through the haze of pain, Gene registered The Captor's laughter, and then his beginning to speak. _

_"Oh bless. He did try didn't he boys?" from his position on the floor, Gene looked up to see the two men nodding along patronisingly. "Yes, he did try," The Captor continued, "and just for that Genie boy, I won't shoot her." Relief washed over Gene wave by wave, as Millie exhaled visibly as the gun was removed from her head and returned to The Captor's pocket. The freedom from anxiety was short lived however, as The Captor continued, "Anyway, why would I shoot her when this way is so much more fun?" _

_"NO!" Gene screamed himself hoarse over and over again, "NO! NO! NO!" _

_The Captor contracted his arm muscles around Millie's windpipe, lifting her bodily from the floor. Gene watched as her legs waved about, useless against The Captor's grip. He squeezed harder, a final wizened cry erupting from her constricted throat. _

_Gene could only watch as her face began to change colour._

_Gene could only sit and scream as Millie fought for her life._

_Gene could only look on helplessly, as her glasses slipped from her face and dangled from the chain around her neck._

_He could only stifle sobs as gradually, she stopped fighting and became deathly still._


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry about the dely, but I'm afraid you'll have to expect more of the same! D: I've only been at college two days and it's already a nightmare homework-wise! I also lied when I said this was going to be a long chapter. It's a long-_er_ chapter, but that's all I can say. Enjoy. Ninja goblins, blah blah blah.**

Jumping into her car along with Chris and Ray, Alex drove like she had never driven before. Screeching round corners, swearing profusely every time an obstacle dared to get in their way, Alex reminded herself more and more of Gene, her stomach squirming as she thought of what they might find on the banks of the Thames. Though the drive was but five minutes long, it could have been an hour as Alex pushed the car to its limits, the force of her violent turns caused the two men exchange a nervous look before actually putting on their seatbelts.

Alex was, quite reasonably driving the wrong way up a one way street, when a siren began to blare.

"Oh fucking hell!" she spat, beating the steering wheel with both fists before screeching to a halt. The uniformed officer strode up to her. It was evident in his swagger that he felt above her. He turned a cocky face towards her, fixing her with a glare, which she supposed he thought looked intimidating, before drawling at her.

"Do you want to step out of the car Madam?"

"Nope." she said, fumbling for her Warrant card, seething.

"Excuse me? I asked you to get out of the car."

"And I said no." she said, with the tone one would use when addressing a particularly belligerent five year old. He laughed derisively.

"Oh I don't think you're in any position to refuse." Finally succeeding in pulling the card from the pocket of her overly-tight jeans. Opening it, she fixed him with the piercing glare she only ever brought out on special occasions. It had even been enough to make Gene quiver in his snakeskin boots.

"Detective Inspector Alex Drake. Now what were you saying about my position?"

"Erm…oh…sorry Ma'am."

"Good, now MOVE IT!" she finished in a scream, causing the PC to jump violently and scuttle back to his panda car. Chris and Ray exchanged another look.

Arriving at the destination that had been described to them, Alex all but vaulted over the barrier separating road and riverbank. Her eyes fixed upon the lone figure, sprawled, face up, on the ground, drenched and bedraggled by the water which now lapped at its ankles. She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as she got close enough to identify the body as female. Forensics had arrived before Alex, Ray and Chris, and one man stood up to greet them, brushing off his hands on the legs of his uniform.

"Elderly woman…mid to late sixties I'd say. Looks like she's been strangled."

"Time of death?" asked Alex, wanting to get this out of the way as soon as possible, she was far too concerned about finding Gene. Though it sickened her to think it, Alex just couldn't bring herself to care much about this woman.

"Erm…I'd guess it was only two or three hours ago. Barely cold."

Alex looked down into the wrinkled face, eyes delicately closed. She spotted a pair of tortoiseshell glasses dangling from a chain around her neck. It struck her as odd that they would not have come off in the water.

"So who is she?" asked Chris, shifting some rubble about with his foot, "any ID?"

"Nothing, no. Found what looks like a shopping list or something, but it's too water-damaged to tell."

"She's bruised," cut in Ray, "violent killer."

"Hmm." agreed Alex, her mind mostly elsewhere.

"What sikko would kill a granny though?" said Chris, in his usual dulcet tones, "S'not right."

That particular 'sikko' now stood above Gene, who looked back at him, anger raging in his eyes. He had not spoken since the three men had dragged Millie's body from the room. It had sickened him to see her like that. Like a rag doll, just limp. One minute she was full of life and flair, and the next? …Well, the next she was reduced to that.

"Poor Genie." simpered The Captor, "have we lost our friendy-wendy? Or was it more than a friend? You might have been in there Gene…she was perfect for you…just your age." When Gene continued not to speak, the Captor continued, "Oh, I forgot. You're more into that slag in CID, aren't you? Alex Drake? You know, I must pay her a visit. I bet she knows a trick or two, hey?" still no answer, "I bet she'd be gagging for it, eh Genie? If you're all she's had to look at she'll be bloody shocked when I turn up. A woman like that…she needs someone who can…meet her needs. You understand me? I just don't think you'd be able to…facilitate." He grinned evilly, cocking his head to one side as Gene still didn't say a word. He was instead now staring, blankly ahead of him, apparently oblivious to The Captor's words.

"Giving me the silent treatment? Aww…we can't have that. But don't worry, I happen to know how to get you to make a lot of noise."

And with those words, he bore down upon Gene.

"Poor old sod," said Ray, "what are y'thinking Ma'am?"

"No idea." murmured Alex, all the furious determination she had displayed before, gone. It was replaced by apathy and a sense of hopelessness.

"Any psychological stuff?" said Chris.

"Nope." She replied flatly. "Forensics will probably help." They all stood in silence, Chris and Ray exchanging yet another look. They were mutually surprised. Usually, Alex was more than ready to shove her crackpot theories down their throats within five and a half minutes of arriving at a crime-scene. Chris remembered the bickering it had caused between her and the Guv. Perhaps that was it. Without anyone to fight, if even just for the sake of it, Alex felt useless. He looked over at Alex. Her eyes looked as dead as the woman's would, had she had her eyes open. It was clear she had not been sleeping. Surely this had to be more than just concern for her boss?

Alex stared blankly at the woman, her eyes not really taking anything in. Gene was dead. He had to be dead. The grief hit her hard, though no matter how she tried, she could not coax the relief of tears from her eyes. They were stone.

The silence was broken by a gurgling, choking sort of noise. Simultaneously, all three detectives looked down. The woman beneath them was convulsing, the sound they had heard issuing from her throat. Water began to spill out of her mouth.

Ray acted first. Bending down and flipping the woman over onto her stomach in a second, he began to rub between her shoulder blades . More and more water spewed out of her open mouth, until finally, she gulped in that vital lungful of air, panting and retching as she instinctively attempted to rid herself of the remaining water and get more oxygen to her starved brain at the same time.

"Oh my God! Chris! Get an ambulance!" exclaimed Alex. At the sound of her voice, the woman's eyes snapped open, finding Alex's face and allowing the two pairs of eyes that had so affected Gene meet. Then, Millie Stafford uttered the two words that had been reverberating constantly around Alex's brain for the few weeks that had seemed like an eternity. Gathering all the energy she could muster, Millie spoke in a hoarse, yet strong voice.

_"Gene Hunt."_

**A/N: I couldn't kill her off, she's too awesome! Mwahahahahaahah! Review my hideously short and inadequate offerings or I will eat you. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Here it is then. Have included very obvious clue to The Captor's identity due to request, but don't get excited, it's not massively profound. when you finally find out who it is, you aren't going to be like: "OH MY GOD, HOW DID I NOT GUESS?" Hope you like it anyway. Ninja Goblins sharpening their swords...**

The hunger was nothing any more. He would have given all the steak pies in the world for one cigarette…A cigarette and a drink. God, that Scotch he kept on his filing cabinet…right at that moment he would have gladly walked to the office just for one glass of the stuff. The sensory pleasure wasn't only in that taste; it was the look of the stuff, the wood-smoke aroma…

Pushing the cravings to the back of his mind didn't work anymore. They were too loud, too insistent to ignore. Even thinking about the Scotch in his office was odd. Nothing existed beyond these four walls, the darkness had become a friend. The admittance of light often meant someone was opening the door. Other people weren't good. Nearly all of them meant harm…those that didn't, that befriended him tended to get themselves killed. His life seemed to be separated into two parts: Before and After. It was difficult to tell who he was anymore. He knew who he had been, but as for what he had become…would you call it a shell?

He had long since stopped using his sleeve to wipe the blood that had been trickling from his nose none stop for the last half hour. That last beating had hit him hard. He just wished he could feel it. The pain would be welcome now…anything to escape from this numbness. Even memories of Alex couldn't comfort him anymore. He was going to die here, alone and broken in the dark.

He remembered the seventies. He remembered the younger man he had put away, the criminal he and Sam had captured together. How the tables would come to turn. Now the hunter had become the hunted.

* * *

"Just tell me from the beginning Millie." Alex sat by her hospital bed, holding the frail hand of the woman sitting before her. Millie Stafford had aged ten-fold since her ordeal, and looked weaker than ever. Her eyes, hard and blazing, however, told otherwise.

"It's hazy," croaked Millie, her free hand fiddling with the glasses on her lap, "I'd seen the appeal for him…the way you spoke about him…I didn't think much of it, you know, just the news. It was Wednesday, and Wednesday's shopping day, so I went to the grocers, then the post office, and then that corner shop on Halldale Road…you know, the one run by that Indian?" Alex nodded.

"But Millie, did you notice anything out of the normal way?"

"Well, if you call getting hit over the head with a blunt instrument out of the normal way then, yes I suppose it did." Alex could not help but crack weak a smile at this, which Millie returned.

"You're like him."

"He's a good lad." said Mille. There was silence for a moment, Alex felt the pick of tears behind her eyes, quickly moving on to try and hide them.

"So where was this, Millie?"

"I'm not sure love…I know I'd passed the park…so really, anywhere between there and where I live, Dilgale Cresant."

"Do you have a normal route then, Millie?"

"Yes…from Halldale Road go up towards Oxford Avenue, turn left into the lane leading to Montgomery Road, walk down there, take a left by the chippy, straight on, another left and that's Dilgale Cresant. I'm at number thirty."

"That's quite a walk."

"I'm used to it dear, lived here all my life."

"So after you got knocked out, then what?" Millie sat in silence for a few moments, apparently thinking hard. Her brow began to furrow, she looked up at Alex.

"I don't know."

"That's Ok, Millie. What's the last thing you remember before we found you?"

"Nothing…the last thing I remember is something hitting me on the back of the head after I'd been shopping."

"But what about Gene?" Alex pressed, leaning forward, the anticipation beginning to take over.

"Who?"

"Gene! Gene Hunt!"

"Oh yeah…" It was evident from Millie's expression that she was racking her brain furiously for memories that would not come. She looked up at Alex, her eyes wide and fearful, "I don't remember." she whispered.

"But…his name was the fist thing you said when you woke up, Millie! Just now, you said he was a good lad!" Alex's voice rose in spite of herself, panic beginning to bubble beneath the surface of her calm exterior. It was as if her last chance of finding Gene was slipping through her fingers as she watched.

"I did…" agreed Millie, "I just remember his face…something about Rodger Moore."

"But, where were you? What happened?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Millie shrieked, tears of frustration began to stream down her face, Alex fell silent as Millie's sobs reached the ward Sister, who entered the room, glaring at Alex

"Detective Inspector. Would you mind not distressing my patients?"

"But…but you have to make her remember…" She knew it sounded so childish, but it was all she could do to bite back the tears threatening to engulf her too.

"Do I come into the station and tell you how to catch criminals DI Drake? No. So do you mind not telling me how to do my job and leaving the premises before you do any more damage?"

Alex nodded meekly, giving Millie's hand a small pat as she withdrew her own from it. Silently, she crossed to the doorway, stopping only as Millie's voice carried to her across the room,

"I'll remember Alex. I'll make myself remember."

"Thank you." Alex whispered, waiting until she was out of the room, down the corridor, out of the door and behind the wheel of her car before allowing the tears to erupt. She had been so close.

* * *

"Alex, just face it! She knows nothing!" Ray was sitting on his desk as Alex stood before him. Despite the days of retracing Millie's steps that day, Alex had learned nothing and Millie's mind still drew a blank. Ray's outlook was characteristically bleak.

"Oh what, so we should just stop trying to help her? She's the only lead we've got Ray, you want us to just give up on her?""Oh come on, Drake, you're supposed to be the one with all the psychology crap, a bloody monkey'd be able to work this one out! She's watched the appeal, some nutter's tried to murder her, she's probably a bit batty anyway, so she's replaced everything that happened with what she saw on the TV. It's not bloody rocket science."

"Oh, sorry Doctor Ray. You got a PHD in Psychology now, have you? Where the hell did you get that from?"

"I just know, Alex!"

"Oh right, do you?" Alex had had enough, "You know what, Ray, sometimes it's like you want him to be dead!"

"No Alex," he replied, "I'm being realistic, Do you want to know why I'm acting like he's dead, eh? I'm acting like he's dead because he probably is dead!"

The hand which collided hard with Ray's cheek took him completely by surprise. He staggered backwards, holding the side of his face where the red mark had already begun to blossom. Alex stood where she was, hand stinging and chest heaving. She addressed the next remark to the room at large, though keeping her eyes fixed upon Ray.

"I'm going to trust Millie, and I'm going to find him with or without any of your help. If any of you are still with me, then I expect you to help."

"Ma'am…" It was Shaz, "You might be letting your…your… relationship with the Guv cloud your judgement…it's not very likely that he's still out there." Alex did not look at her, though Shaz's words felt like a knife in her stomach. Apparently bolstered by Shaz's speaking up, Chris spoke also.

"We wish he was alive as much as you do, Ma'am…but…" he tailed off. Alex swallowed, before composing herself and addressing the floor.

"Then that's me done here. At least until the Guv's back."

"Well you'd better clear your desk now then." Ray spoke coldly, the slap still fresh in his mind.

Alex did so, gathering her few possessions and placing them into a plastic bag from her desk draw. Without making eye contact any of her supposed 'team', she crossed the room and entered Gene's vacant office. Looking around, she took in everything around her, everything that was quintessentially him. The scent on her carpet was long gone, but here it still lingered. There was no particular reason why she'd come in here, but knew she wouldn't have felt right unless she did. The blinds had been closed since his leaving, and of that she was glad; now she couldn't prevent the silent tears that began to roll down her face. She had to take something…just something to remind her of him…a stimulus to search on, even if it were in vain. She opened his desk draw. Hardly very organised. Papers, envelopes and god knows what else had been stuffed in willy-nilly. Moving the papers aside, her hand finally stuck something metal, it was one of his many hipflasks. Why it had a golfer on it, she would never know, he didn't give off the impression of ever having played…perhaps he had…there was so much she had not known about him, and now perhaps would never know. She placed the flask in her bag.

What she saw next made her breath catch in her throat. It was a book,_ her_ book. It was Jane Eyre, the very copy of Jane Eyre she had given Gene to read that first morning after she had found him. He had marked his page, predictably, with a flattened cigarette box.

Picking up the book, Alex felt her heart, once again, go out to him. He would never have admitted to having read it, and she would never have expected him to read it either, but he had. Once again, she had overlooked and misjudged his efforts. Keeping the book clasped in her left hand, Alex closed the draw and prepared to leave, walking straight through the office without looking at any of her, now former, colleagues. She felt their eyes burning upon her, though walked on without giving any indication that she had. She had to remain dignified. They weren't going to see her weak. She was going to be strong for Gene.

He had read three quarters of that book, and though Alex knew him to be alive with every fibre of her being, a nasty little voice in the back of her mind said that Gene would never read the end.

**A/N: My homework load is pretty hefty, so it might mean that Chapter 13 will only be out by next weekend. **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Get ready to be disapointed with The Captor's identity! Sorry about the dely, but I think there'll be more of the same. Either the next chapter or the one after that will be the last. Enjoy. Ninja Goblins on standby, as I need to get over 100 reviews! I can't actually believe I've got that many!**

It was Wednesday morning. Wednesday was shopping Day. Not nothing or no one got in the way of Shopping Day. Not even whichever nut-job had decided to kidnap her in the first place. The details of her ordeal were still hazy, but she remembered the blurry outline of a thick-set man leering down at her. The image always made her feel cold.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of her mind, Millie turned left into Montgomery Road and pounding her usual route to the Grocer's. So familiar was the street, that the unusual object caught Millie's eye almost immediately.

* * *

Alex dressed haphazardly. She had awoken, as usual, at eight, prepared for the morning rush, only to realise that she would not have to partake. The previous day's events had washed over her as she lay beneath the sheets, renewed anger bubbling within. The look of pity or frustration on each of their faces had done nothing to change her mind, in fact, as they had floated through her mind, they had only made her more and more determined to prove them wrong and get Gene home safely.

She had resolved to go and see Millie again. Despite having done so every day for the last week and having drawn a blank. She had been sent home the day before her run-in with the team. Despite the ferocity of her beating, the injuries themselves had not been all that severe. Her face still looked swollen and bruised, but Alex was convinced that her home was the place she should be. When she had dropped her off, Millie fitted back into her sitting room like a hand to a glove. It was as if she had never been away. If she were to recover anywhere, then her home was the place.

Alex pulled on a chunky jumper and the first pair of jeans which came to hand. Running a comb through her hair, she neglected makeup and made for the door. Perhaps today…today she might find something.

* * *

"Alright Genie-boy?"

"Alright." Gene muttered in response, his face pressed against the damp floorboards.

"How are we today?" There was no reply. "Now come-on Genie, you know I don't like it when you ignore me." Gene did know, and, eager to avoid another beating, answered.

"Oh, I'm bloody fine."

"Good. Good." said The Captor, a smile twisting onto his thin lips, although Gene could no see it.

"What d'you want anyway? Bet it's nothing pleasant."

"Well," said The Captor. "can't imagine it'll be pleasurable for you, but God knows I'll enjoy it."

* * *

From behind a bin, Millie had picked up the wallet. The leather felt funny against her fingers as a chill traced its way down her spine. She felt as if she should know what this was, like it was vital somehow, not only to her own life, but to someone else's. A plan?

Slipping her thumb inside, she opened it out, drawing in her breath as the sun caught the silver badge within. Almost dreading what she would see, Millie moved her eyes to the left half of the Warrant card. The man stared up at her.

_NORTH LONDON POLICE, __CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIONS DEPARTMENT, __Gene Hunt. __THE OFFICER NAMED ON THIS CARD CARRIES THE RANK OF: __Detective Chief Inspector. __THIS IS HIS WARRANT AND AUTORITY FOR EXECUTING THE DUTIES OF HIS OFFICE_

A jolt in Millie's stomach brought everything back. Gene, Gene's legs, that man…the room

Millie's eye's travelled down into the piercing blue of the man she had befriended in such terrible circumstances, and then travelled upwards to the tower block above her.

The forth floor…

She had to get to Alex. Forgetting all about shopping day, Millie started to run, adrenalin rather than stamina forcing one foot before the other. She didn't know where she was going, nor how long she had been running, but stopped dead as a figure stepped into her path.

* * *

Alex began to travel on foot to Millie's house. The walk, though ten minutes at most, always felt like hours to Alex. Every second was vital. In that ten minutes she took to walk, anything could be happening. Every moment Gene was still missing, the more likely he was never to come back. Trapped in these disturbing thoughts, Alex didn't notice the elderly woman hurtle round the corner until they nearly collided with one another. Millie stood before Alex, gabbling unintelligibly and holding something out to her, panting heavily.

"Hunt…card…know where he is….remembered."

Alex stared down at the warrant card Millie was brandishing at her. It was Gene's alright. For a moment, she could barely breathe as she looked at the image of the man she thought she'd never see again. And now, at last, hope.

"Where?"

"Montgomery Road. That block of flats. We were on the forth floor."

Without a single word, Alex shot off in the direction Millie had indicated, leaving the elderly woman alone on the corner, breathing heavily and still clutching the Warrant Card.

* * *

"Oh Christ, you're not going to arse rape me, are yeh?"

"Funnily enough Hunt, I'm not in the slightest bit tempted."

"Good." Gene muttered.

"You see, Gene, this is the day it ends." Gene did not speak, fear getting the better of him as he began to tremble. NOW he was facing the prospect of his own mortality, the imminent prospect of his own mortality. Gene Hunt was not a coward, but Death was hardly to be sniffed at.

"What happened to you, Trent?" said Gene, asking the one question that, over his time in that room had plagued him more than any other.

"I got harder, Gene." replied Kim Trent, whispering the four words sharply into Gene's ear.

"What turns a blagger into a cop-killer, eh Trent?"

"Circumstance." he hissed, his lips less than half an inch from Gene's ear.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, an eye for an eye. You put me away. You ruined my bloody life. You were the one who put me into that bloody hell-hole."

"What? Prison? Well you should have thought about that before going on the rob and shooting an innocent woman, one of the cleaning ladies in my office."

"No but you don't see Gene. It's because it's you. You're not like the rest. Had to have you. Had to break you." With these words, Trent grabbed a handful of Gene's hair, making him yell in surprise and pain. Pulling his head upwards, Trent forced Gene to look into his cold, dark eyes.

"Look at yourself Kim! What've you become?"

"What have I become?" Trent laughed manically, the mirth distorting his features so that he appeared, if possible, even more insane. "Take a look at yourself Copper, useless piece of shit on the floor. Couldn't even save that old biddy, could you? You're a bloody mess, Hunt."

Trent drew a long kitchen knife from his jacket, holding it at Gene's chest. Closing his eyes, Gene excepted the inevitable, deciding to remember those happy days on Alex's living room floor. He remembered her hair brushing once or twice over his face as she bent to talk to him. He remembered that gentle kiss. He drew steady, claming breaths as he resolved to take the blow with dignity. If her was going to die now, he would not show Trent his fear. Not again. He tried to block out Trent's words as he spoke softly, excitedly into his ear once more.

"I'm not going to make it quick…oh no. I want you to know it's happening. Want you to lie there and bleed to death…look at you Hunt," he breathed, eyes glinting once more, "Look at the Manc Lion now. Not much more than a pussy cat."

He raised the knife.

* * *

The stairs seemed to go on forever, though hardly any thought passed through Alex's brain other than to find Gene. When she finally got to the forth storey, Alex had to pause in the corridor. There were five doors on this floor. Which was Gene behind?

As she stared at each door in turn, Alex soon discovered that she would not have to guess which door was the one, as a muffled yell issued from number nineteen. Without waiting for further confirmation, or indeed thinking about what she would do once she got in there, Alex began to ram the door, first with her shoulder, and then resorting to her foot.

Finally, the door splintered and the lock gave way, allowing Alex entry into the dingy flat. Following the sounds of voices, Alex had found her way to another door which she threw open, her eyes finding the figures on the floor just on time to see a knife enter Gene's breast.

"NO!"

The blood began to gush from the wound as Gene's breathing became panicked and erratic, his eyes

wide with shock as he stared at the knife still lodged just below his chest. The Captor turned from

Gene to Alex, and in an instant had pinned her to the floor, placing one of his knees between her own.

He began to press himself against her as Alex struggled, turning her face away as she felt the man's

hands, wet with Gene's blood, gripping her wrists.

"BOLLY!" shouted Gene, not caring about his legs or the knife and attempting to run to her aid, his

fruitless efforts doing nothing but weaken him further. Alex whimpered as she felt unwelcome hands

move from her wrists and work their way beneath her clothes and begin to trail over her skin.

"Bloody hell, Genie-boy. She is a bit of alright. S'pose I'd better take a closer look while I'm here. Be

a nice treat for you that will, won't it Gene?"

"GET OFF HER!" Gene wheezed, still straining to stand.

"Oh no, Gene. Why would I do that? This way is much more fun."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: You'd better bloody like this Chapter; I'm jeopardising my future career prospects by neglecting my college work here. Goblins, ninjas, you know the deal. (On a side note to SephyRose611, you'll notice that I managed to write one of those scenes that we both try to avoid in this chapter! I hope you're proud of me 8-D)**

Alex screamed as Trent's hands crept further up towards her breasts, writhing and screaming on the floor. She breathed a sigh of relief as the hands withdrew, only to begin screaming again but a second later as she felt his hands move to the waist-band of her jeans, undoing the button and zip, his breathing heavy and nicotine-laced in her face.

She heard the creak of his flies as he undid them. He began to make low grunting noises as he sat astride her, repulsing her, causing her to shout out, desperately.

"GENE!" She screeched, begging him to help her, although she knew he could not. Closing her eyes, she decided to try and block it out, knowing that there was no escape.

"Oh, Gene, she's fucking hot," panted Trent, "You're fucking gorgeous aren't you?" he forced his mouth onto hers. She began to whimper in spite of herself. He began to move on top of her, making the whimpers turn to screams.

"Bolls…" Gene said weakly, still trying to get to her, succeeding only, by his struggles, in forcing more and more blood from the hole beneath his chest. He could feel himself weakening, his head was growing heavy and clouded, only one thought keeping him from allowing his head to loll back and think no more: He had to get that bastard off her. The sound of her in distress was torture to him, far worse than what Trent had done to his legs, even worse than lying there as he had watched them beat Millie to death…at least they didn't violate Millie like Trent was about to violate Alex.

Alex kept her mouth tightly closed, her cries strangled as she lay there, knowing that if she struggled, he would only hurt her more. Thinking that all hope of rescue was lost, Alex surrendered, allowing herself to go limp. The tears began to trickle thick and fast down her face from behind her eyelids. She prepared herself for more of his violent touch, trying to imagine how it would feel before the event happened, just so it wouldn't be quite as bad when it did. It was a pathetic hope.

Above Gene's shouts and Alex's sobs, there came a thunk, a thunk which, for some reason caused Trent to slump onto Alex's chest. Confused, she lay there motionless for a second, before pushing the unconscious Trent off her and onto the floor. Looking up, she saw Millie, stood, framed by the doorway, her face wild with rage and a walking stick raised above her head.

"Me Dad's. Knew it'd come in useful one day. You ok, Alex, dear?"

"Gene." muttered Alex, scrambling over to him, not caring that her jeans were now slipping down her legs. She took his hand, barely noticing the pool of his blood in which she knelt. Millie moved to stand beside them.

"Guv?" Ray's tremulous voice issued through the room, he stood at the end of the room nearest the door, Chris, Shaz and several uniformed officers gathered behind him. He still clutched the warrant card Millie had used to persuade him. "I'm sorry Guv."

"They're all here, Gene." Alex bent low to Gene's ear, whispering softly to him. He made a low grunt in response, "They came, Gene. We're all here for you. You're going to be ok. There's ambulances coming, right?" She looked over at Ray who nodded swiftly, his eyes wide and consumed with sorrow and guilt.

"I'm dying, love." he grunted.

"No, no you're not. You're ok…" she spoke fervently and determinedly, telling herself as much as him whilst squeezing his hand tightly.

"Millie?" he muttered.

"I'm here love." she answered, moving to Alex's side, "It's take a damn site more to finish me off than that twat," she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder towards Trent, "and shut up with all this dying nonsense. Stop being such a poof. You're a copper, not a fairy." At this, he gave a low, gurgling chuckle.

"You were brilliant, Millie… just look after this one for me. She's got more bloody mouth on her than common sense, but you love, you've got a happy balance of that. You're not unlike me in that respect. Watch out for her Millie."

"Don't try and fob her off on me, Gene, look after her yourself!"

"I wish I could, love." There was silence broken only by Alex's low sobs. Gene moved his eyes back to hers.

"Bolls…look at me." she did so, tears blurring his image, making him swim before her, the pools of silvery blue appearing to shimmer before her. "Don't cry love." he brought a hand up to her damp eyes and wiped away the tears brimming there. "Talk to me Bolly."

She struggled, he voice catching in her constricting throat, trying to find words that would not come. "Gene…I…don't…please." she stuttered, he rolled his eyes.

"Bloody hell, woman. The one time I need to hear your bloody voice is the rare occasion you're lost for words." in response, she made an odd noise part-way between a laugh and a sob, staring into the silver-blue eyes gazing affectionately into her own.

"I'm scared Bolls." he said, under his breath, his voice barely a whisper.

"…Gene-" He gave a look to silence her, his next words coming out as a croak, partly due to emotion, but mostly down to his ever-weakening condition.

"…Love you Bolls." she drew in a breath as Gene placed a gentle hand either side of her face. Slightly removed from the scene, Chris, Ray and Shaz stood, their tear-streaked faces betraying pure shock as they watched their DCI pull their DI into a tender kiss, guiding her lips gently onto his and capturing them.

In that kiss, he tried to express so much…all the times he had wanted to do it before and how much he wished he would be able to do it again. He tried to tell her which was the moment he had fallen in love with her, but when he came to think about it, he found that he did not know. Perhaps it was that night she brought him back to her flat, crippled and in pain, had nipped out for quarter of an hour and had returned with a curry. Goddess. Perhaps it had been before then…he didn't believe in love at fist sight, but she'd certainly had an effect stood before him dressed as a high-class prostitute…No, on second thoughts, it _was_ the curry…definitely the curry.

After several moments, Alex pulled back, realising that she was kissing a mouth that was no longer responding. Gene lay totally still, his mouth slightly open and eyes closed. As the ambulance sirens approached, she pressed her cheek to his, feeling its residual warmth against her skin, before whispering.

"I love you too…Guv."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Here's the last Chapter. I'll do all the summing up stuff at the end. You have to review since this is the end. My Ninja Goblins are prepared to do battle one last time.**

Alex had not been allowed in the ambulance with Gene, sitting instead in the back of a police car, crying bitterly. She had totally ignored Trent as he was cuffed and dragged roughly away by Ray and Chris. Shaz had stood awkwardly next to Alex's shaking form, watching as the paramedics fitted Gene with an oxygen mask.

The car journey was numbing. All the time they had been searching for him and he had been not two miles away from the station. Now it was too late. She had been so close…

* * *

"He's not dead." the Doctor said, matter-of-factly looking up from his clipboard, "but he's not out of the woods yet…and as for his legs."

"Thank God!" Alex flopped back into her chair, relief flooding over her in wave after wave. It took her a while to register the second half of the sentence. Her eyes snapped back up to him, her words tumbling out of her mouth, "His legs? What about his legs?"

"Oh…you didn't know…well it seems DCI Hunt's legs have been quite severely damaged. He's had his kneecaps and ankles shattered, I'm afraid. Then it seems he's injured them further, a bone in his calf seems to have pierced his flesh, which will make them a lot more difficult to heal, especially as it seems he's sustained these injuries over a week ago."

"But…he'll walk again, right?"

"Well…I can't say at this stage, but it's a wonder he's still holding on, judging by the amount of blood he's lost. He's very determined. I'm sure if he's s got anything to do with it, he'll be in the marathon this time next year…but," he quickly corrected himself, "the next few hours are going to vital. In cases like these it could go either way." Alex nodded.

"Can I see him now?"

"Yeah. He's just in here DI Drake." he ushered her into the room he had just left. "He's very weak…all we can do now is hope he pulls through." He smiled sadly before quitting the room.

She turned to the figure on the bed. It struck her how small he looked. In the office, he was king, at every crime-scene he'd shown unwavering strength and dominance. Here he was just another patient. If Gene died, it would rock Alex's world, but that Doctor would go home, unaffected. To him, it was just a job. Seeing Gene like this, attached to a drip, both legs wrapped in plaster and strung up onto a harness, was the norm for him. How many patients had he treated? How many men had lay before him, broken and emasculated?

Alex sat beside him, listening to his shallow breathing. Despite the weakness of the sound, it reassured her infinitely just to know that there was enough life left in him to make such a noise. She took his hand. Her stomach lurched at its limpness. Drawing in her breath, she struggled as what to say. She knew only too well how patients, apparently dead to the world, could still hear those around them.

"I'm here Gene," She whispered, "See, who said anything about dying? You're as strong as you ever were. I have to say though, you do look a bit of an idiot with your legs in casts like that. Come on, love, wake up... please Gene. You'll wake up, won't you? You need to." Alex fell silent abruptly as Shaz entered the room.

The younger woman tip-toed over to her, placing a hand on Alex's shoulder, only to have it shrugged off. Alex could tell she had hurt Shaz, just by the change of atmosphere in the room, but did not care. In fact, she relished the thought that she might have inspired into Shaz one tenth of the hurt she was feeling now. Out of all of them, she had expected Shaz to stand by her.

"Ma'am?" Alex remained silent. Shaz seemed to recognise that she was being given the cold shoulder. She stood in awkward silence for a moment before speaking again, "Will you ever forgive us Ma'am?" Alex's further silence was enough to express her view. She kept her eyes fixed on Gene, relaxing only when she heard Shaz leave the room. A hastily stifled sniff told Alex that her intent to wound her had been successful. She continued to address Gene when she could be sure Shaz was out of earshot.

"I know I shouldn't have done that, Guv. But you weren't there. They wouldn't believe that Millie had really been with you. I ended up leaving. They all said you were dead."

The last word was spoken through a sob. The truth was, a part of Alex's mind couldn't shift the assumption that if CID hadn't doubted Millie then, somehow, they would have got to Gene sooner. Maybe he wouldn't be seconds away from death now. Alex heard another approach behind her. She turned round, more than prepared to give Shaz a piece of her mind for even daring to come back, but found herself cracking a weak smile as the visitor turned out to be Millie.

"I heard all that DI Drake…what you said to that lass."

"Hmmhn." came the noncommittal response.

"I know they didn't believe us, Alex, but that's no reason to bear them a grudge."

"But they-!"

"But nothing." Millie interrupted her, "What good will arguments do? Not good for him, are they? His team means everything to him. Don't tear that apart. That was his reason for living."

"What do you mean, was?" said Alex, puzzled.

"Well when I first met him, it was his only reason, but now he's got a new reason to pull through, Alex. A far better reason than his work."

"What's that?" Alex had absolutely no idea as to her meaning, causing the older woman to shake her head, incredulously.

"Don't be stupid girl," Millie smiled good naturedly. Considering the subject closed, she changed the subject, "Any change?"

"No," admitted Alex, "nothing. I just keep talking to him, don't I, Guv? I've not shut up since we got here."

"Quite right too." chuckled Mille, "That'll keep you going, Gene. It's not nice to talk and not be talked back to though Gene. Ain't polite. You've got a lovely young lady talking to you, and you don't even have the decency to smile at her. That's very rude. You never stopped going on about her before, and now you won't even pay her the time of day." Alex stayed quiet, though her interest was peaked. He had talked about her? What had he said? Wrapped up in her reflections, she barely heard Millie chatting to Gene over the next few minutes until she said: "Well that's me Gene. You're keeping me from my tea…just get better eh? Bye love." she turned to Alex, "I'll be in tomorrow. Look after him."

"Will do." smiled Alex, giving Millie a small wave as she hobbled out of the room.

"Ma'am?" Shaz's voice came from the door again, Alex bristled, though contained her anger, remembering Millie's words.

"You don't have to talk to us Ma'am," said a new voice, Chris's, "but I reckon we got a right to see him." she nodded without turning round. They began to shuffle towards Gene positioning themselves around the foot of the bed, slightly removed from Alex. She glanced at them, not quite able to look at them, but feeling a duty towards the Team nevertheless.

"Talk to him," she said, quietly, "He'll hear you." There was a blaring silence before Ray spoke.

"We've arrested Freddy and Brickster, Guv. Millie said there were two other blokes involved…lo and behold, Trent's old gang happen to be in town.…" after a brief pause, he continued: "Just get better, eh Guv? We're shit wi'out you."

"He's right, Guv," picked up Chris, "We need you back at the station."

"We gave up on you Guv." said Shaz, half glancing at Alex, "but that's done now, and there ain't nothing we can do to change that…don't you give up on us."

They stood in a silent vigil, Alex battling with her two conflicting feelings. She was so angry with them, but Shaz was right, there was nothing anyone could do about what had happened. Should she let bygones be bygones? It all depended on whether Gene made it through the next crucial hours…but then again, could she really, in all good faith lead Shaz, Ray and Chris to believe that his death was their fault? No. The only one at fault was Trent.

After half an hour, the team looked ready to leave. Alex stood up, almost inconspicuously, speaking in a low voice.

"Shaz?"

Shaz looked over at Alex, her face full of trepidation, preparing for the torrent of abuse she was likely to get. It was a great shock to her, therefore, when Alex crosses the room in two strides and enveloped her in her arms. Braking apart, Alex smiled reassuringly at her friend and turned to nod at Ray and Chris in turn. She knew now that, whatever happened, Ray, Chris, Shaz and Alex would always be together. What hadn't broke them only made them stronger as a team and mismatched unit of friends.

Now she had made peace with them, Alex felt a sizable weight lift from her mind. At least now she could concentrate fully on what was really important: the man lying inert before her.

* * *

Visiting time had ended three hours ago, and Alex had no intention of leaving. She sat on the floor by Gene's bed, allowing it to shield her from the view of any passing medical staff. The hospital was almost scarily quiet at night. Only the beeping monitor and Gene's ragged breathing broke through the silence. Alex leant against the bedside cabinet, making sure her legs did not disturb the many monitor wires twisting and intertwining with one another on the floor.

She found herself straining to hear any irregular sounds, any indication of somebody entering the room. She knew it was stupid to sit here, hiding like a child, just for the sake of being near him, but really- what else could she do? She'd never forgive herself if she weren't with him when he awoke…nor would she let him die alone. He had to have somebody there with him, someone to hold his hand whatever the eventuality. She knew it was irrational, and sooner or later she would be found out, but try as she might, she couldn't tear herself away.

She jumped violently as the high-heels of a Ward Sister clip-clopped into the room. She began to make the usual checks, and with a jolt of horror, Alex realised that she would soon be walking around to the other side of the bed to check the monitor, only to find a fully grown woman sat where she would need to stand.

Panic nearly consumed Alex; she knew that flashing her Warrant Card would have no effect. She'd have to move, quickly and quietly. She had but seconds.

Moving her body smoothly across the polished floor, being careful to make as little noise as possible, Alex lowered herself until she lay flat. She began to shimmy to her left, seeking refuge under Gene's bed. Once the operation was completed, all she could do was lie completely still, praying that she wouldn't be discovered. Alex found herself holding her breath as she saw the woman's shoes, only inches from her face, stop. Had she heard something?

Apparently, she decided to throw it off, and continued to make the necessary checks. The monitor beeped once or twice, which was undoubtedly a good sign, as the shoes moved away again after a couple of minutes. Alex waited until the shoes had clopped out of the door and the sound had receded sufficiently as the woman walked down the corridor, before exhaling in sheer relief.

"Bloody hell, Gene. That was close."

"And exactly how long have you been under my bed, Bolly-keks?" came the gruff voice. Quiet, but strong.

"Gene, is that you?"

"No, it's Prince Philip." scrambling out from under the bed, Alex stood up straight, no longer caring whether or not she was seen. Gene's eyes were worn and sunken, but still held that ever-present sparkle, the lust for his life and his work that was quintessentially Gene Hunt.

"Guv…"

" ello, Bolls." he held out a hand to her, which she took gratefully.

"I thought I'd lost you," He just smiled up at her, holding her affectionate gaze, "told you, you weren't going to die."

"And yet again, you were right." she giggled, "Look Bolls, you an' me need to talk, and frankly there's no time like the present." she looked at him expectantly, still holding his hand and gently caressing it with her thumb. He swallowed nervously before continuing. "When you're locked in a dark room for that long, Alex, one of the many perks is that you get a lot of time to think. And I did think…about you. Well…about me and you to be exact." Alex felt herself blushing, she opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off as he held up his free hand to silence her. "Now before you shout me down, at least give me time to explain. I mean, if you don't want to then…no problem, just say, doesn't matter-"

"Spit it out will you!"

"Fine!" He took a deep breath, "To tell you the truth Bolly, I meant everything I said today. I bloody love you. Now…I was thinking maybe we have a go at things. Have a go at me and you." he avoided her gaze for a couple of seconds. Alex found his embarrassment endearing. It was remarkable how different this coy man looked from the one she had grown to love, and yet this new man was no less attractive. His features, which she had so often seen screwed up in malice as he practiced police brutality on a detainee, had softened significantly. Now he looked almost vulnerable.

"So you're asking me out, basically?"

"Yeah…if you want to…I mean, if you're-"

"Of course I want to, you idiot!"

The grin spread across his face as he pulled her towards him, taking her into his arms as best he could with the casts on his legs and the aching wound in his chest. Her hair tickling his face, he spoke softly into her ear.

"How about we go away somewhere? Just me and you."

"Sounds nice," she said, snuggling into him. "Where do you have in mind?"

"Oh, I dunno," he said, playfulness lacing every syllable, "maybe Devon?"

_The End. _

**A/N: Haha! As if I could kill off Gene! Right, now down to my last Authorial Note! :( First of all, I can't believe the response to this fic. I never thought I'd break the 100 review mark. It's been totally phenomenal. I'd just like to say a few Thank You's, firstly to everyone who's put me on Author or story alert, all the faithful reviewers and everyone who's stuck with me from the begining. This started off as a one-shot. Look at it now! I'd also like to give a special mention to SephyRose611, who's been a great friend and guide throughout. I'm very sorry about boring you daily with my umming and ahhing about evil things I can do**** next. **

**Of course, there's a sequel in the pipe-lines (though I wouldn't expect to see it until late October, (due to half term!) so please include in your reviews if you'd be interested in reading it. Well if you are, I shall not say goodbye to The Start of Defeat, only Au revoir. **

**Thank You all. **

**_-QOTR _**


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